Improbability
by Endless Prattling
Summary: Roxanne Weasley was the "nice" Hufflepuff. Nashira Alden was the Slytherin with a Death Eater father. Nobody expected them to become allies, much less friends, but improbable things are known to happen amidst the halls of Hogwarts (especially when the newest generation of pranksters is involved). Still. Starting that prank war was COMPLETELY accidental(ish).
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling!

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Once upon a time there lived a huge family with an abnormal percentage of redheads. This family was full of nice, decent adults who more or less acted with sufficient intelligence to prove to the surrounding world that they all possessed fully functioning brains. But then, with one singular foolish act, everything came crashing down. They reproduced.

Now, most of these children actually were normal(ish). However, there are a few exceptions that were trying to prove extraordinarily hard that they did not, in fact, inherit a brain (or at least any common sense) from their parents. Notably, James Sirius Potter II and my dear, darling brother, Fred Weasley.

Take today for example. James and Fred had decided it would be perfectly alright to test Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes**'** newest product on Nashira Alden in the middle of transfiguration.

It started out as a normal transfiguration class. Over his fifteen years as Professor, Newark had managed to perfect his glare, so that it was able to suck the immaturity and rowdiness that permanently stalks the teenage population out of his students in under three seconds. Even James and Fred lowered their level of obnoxiousness from "merciless aggravation" to mere "unruly pestering." The class, save the two dimwits supposedly related to me, was silently taking notes and actually listening, so they would not have to mooch the notes off of their poor victimized sister/cousin later (One day I fully intend to muster enough strength to resist James's and Fred's whining and manipulation, and leave them doomed to try to decipher Frank's handwriting. It will be a very satisfying revenge). The only sound in the whole room was Professor Newark lecturing, accompanied by the scratching of quills.

That is, until a loud, ear-piercing POP rudely interrupted the calm.

Everyone's head shot up simultaneously, as if we were all synchronized puppets. My hand shot out and knocked my ink jar of the table, adding in a touch of breaking glass to the soundtrack of chaos. Several other people had jumped, knocking papers and launching them into the air. Professor Newark whipped around from the blackboard, exasperatedly trying to determine the source of the noise.

For a few seconds after, we sat frozen, eyes searching, waiting for something. Finally it came.

Near the back of the classroom, someone let out a sound, something between a gasp and a shriek. Continuing our puppet charade, everyone swiveled together to face Nashira Alden, who had an odd look on her face. My first reaction was thinking she was sick. She had a faint sheen of sweat reflecting on her face, and looked faintly blue.

Several seconds disproved this theory. Her "sweat" was expanding at an alarming rate, appeared to be glowing, and started oozing down her face in a slow gloppy mess. Her hands, too, were dripping the same stuff.

Immediately I glanced to the back right corner of the room, where the Gryffindors always congregated. James and Fred were smirking and doing some sort of ridiculous handshake they deemed 'cool.' Frank Longbottom made eye contact with me, and shot me a mildly amused look. I rolled my eyes in return. Professor Newark's tired voice prompted me to break the silent conversation and turn back to the front.

"Need I ask who did this?" He eyes searched out James and Fred. At their innocently blank looks, he sighed and turned back to Nashira, who now looked like an unhappy pyramid of slime. The goo was increasing exponentially, and Nashira's partner was inching away as it oozed towards her. Professor Newark waved his wand, and I winced even before he cast the spell. Growing up with Fred and my dad, I knew that there was no way they would let a prank be terminated by a simple vanishing spell.

I was right. The moment the spell hit the goop, it exploded, sending bright blue slime showering over several other unlucky Slytherins in a spontaneous rainstorm. They broke out into shrieks. Fred and James looked positively gleeful, but quickly schooled their expressions blank when Newark looked over. The rest of the class was giggling, and I had to admit it was a little funny watching the Slytherins losing their heads.

"Potter! Weasley! Undo whatever forsaken spell you have used, unless you desire to spend the rest of term in detention!" Newark raised his voice above the chaos, stressing his point with his patented death glare (a step up from his normal one). James and Fred barely flinched.

"Dunno what spell you are talking about Sir, Fred and I have been taking notes this entire time. No time for pranks. Right Fred?"

"Yes indeed James! However if you insist, we can try to get rid of it. I vaguely remember coming across a spell just last week in the library that vanished recalcitrant slime." Even Professor Newark dropped his glare to stare incredulously at him. I love my brother, but sometimes I wonder if he knows on what floor the library is, and the idea of him actually researching is laughable. Not to mention he had used the world "recalcitrant." Fred continued smiling brightly, pointedly ignoring the disbelieving looks.

Newark glanced at the once small splatters of slime, now mini mountains threatening expansion into the untouched parts of the classroom. The slime had devoured most of the Slytherins' bags, and even the luckiest were at least up to their knees in the stuff. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs that were sitting nearest to them had retreated, hastily throwing papers and quills in their bags, while the slime searched for more victims. Newark took a deep breath.

"I don't care how you do it, just get rid of it now, unless you desire to leave this classroom with no intention of returning." He spoke with a careful patience, as if talking to toddlers having a sparring match with butcher knives.

James shrugged, and nonchalantly waved his wand in a complicated motion that would have taken anyone but him hours to perfect with the same level of casualness. The slime instantly disappeared, leaving only cranky Slytherins and a rotten garbage smell.

The class decided James and Fred's ability to get rid of messes of their own creation was an amazing accomplishment that warranted applause (although for them, I guess it is). Several of the Gryffindors even began catcalling. Like the attention leeches they are, they started bowing, oblivious to the vein pulsing in Newmark's forehead. Sometimes I worry James and Fred will suffocate under the size of their egos. Although if Newark kills them first….

"100 points from Gryffindor. Potter, Weasley. Detention for a month. I will be discussing this with the Headmistress." The attention finally turned back to Newark, and he looked the angriest I have seen him. His lips were pressed together so tight they looked white, and his expression would have made Voldemort pause. I was surprised James and Fred could look so calm, especially since they had just been doomed to detention. Then again, they have grown up around Aunt Ginny…. I swear, they almost looked amused though.

"Detention Sir? For what?" Fred responded innocently.

"I have the utmost confidence that you can figure it out! Be here at 7 tonight."

"Are you implying that we had something to do with Alden spouting goo? Slimy is a Slytherin's natural state, we had nothing to do with it. But if you are suggesting that, we are going to have to ask you for some proof. Frankly, you should be giving us housepoints for getting rid of the stuff, not punishing us." James answered this time. I closed my eyes at their stupidity. Sometimes they just do not know where to stop. I could see Newark counting to three mentally, trying to muster an ounce of patience.

"You two. Out!" Newark threw his hands up in the air. "Everyone leave. Class dismissed!"

"Do we still have to come to detention tonight?"

"OUT." Apparently Newark had decided it would be a waste of effort dealing with them now. I completely understood.

Lunch. Finally. This one hour is the sole reason I have made it to age sixteen with my sanity more or less intact. And after a painful hour of DADA, I needed the break. I sunk into my seat and shoved a chocolate chip cookie into my mouth with all the grace and eloquence befitting a hungry Weasley. My dorm mates, Kelly and Samantha, made faces at me.

For the most part, everyone in Hufflepuff is absurdly nice and friendly. However, sometimes I feel a little out of place. For the first couple years while they were bonding, I was still deemed "cool" enough for my brother and his Gryffindor friends to hang out with. After they realized a girl was "crimping their style" as they put it, I was forced to find other friends, and by then all the Hufflepuffs had already formed close little groups. The people I am closest to are Kelly and Samantha, but they have been friends since they were four, which was a pretty hard friendship to jump into. Not that I don't love my Puffs, but I am jealous of Frank, James and Fred (I refuse to use the "Marauders" to describe them, despite their insisting). I want a friendship where you can barely imagine the people not together.

Samantha started telling me about a cute Ravenclaw she was talking too, hoping he would invite her to Hogsmeade. Sam was the flirtatious one of the group, and was forever badgering me to introduce her to the Marauders. Kelly was the complete opposite (I don't think I have ever seen her willingly speak to a guy unless it was for a project). She is never seen without a fictional book, and most people wonder if she does, in fact, posses a voice. She does (I would know. Although it happens extremely rarely, when she has enough sugar…. Well. She condenses all of the words she has saved up into an hour of solid prattle).

I bite into a chocolate chip cookie at the Hufflepuff table, zoning out from Sam's description of "eyes that were the very same shade as the ocean right before a storm," and basking in the utter joy of melting chocolate and buttery deliciousness.

I jumped when two bodies slide on either side of me and wormed their arms around me, successfully tearing me away from my inner chocolaty dreams.

"Roxy! How has my dearest sister been? Not going too soft, spending all this time with the Puffs?" I glared at him, and then looked to my other side, where James was smirking at the form of Nashira at the Slytherin table.

"Shut up. I am a Hufflepuff. And you guys went a bit overboard today." I nodded towards Nashira Alden.

"You wound me cousin. Truly." James topped off his one man drama act by pounding his hand to his heart and wiping away invisible tears. I rolled my eyes.

"Demanding house points? Really? You are lucky if he does not write to Aunt Ginny. Why did Frank let you do that anyway? I thought he was supposed to keep you in check."

"Ah Roxy. So naïve." Fred spoke with a patronizing voice that never failed in irritating me. "Do not be fooled by his Prefect's badge, Frank still is, and will always be, a Marauder. He may put an end to some of our more harebrained schemes, but a mere prank such as this? Give him some credit."

I sighed.

"Where is Frank anyways? And why are you here? Not ashamed to be seen interacting with a Puff? "

"Frank had to stop by the library for a minute. As for us gracing you with our presence? We came to check if you had escaped the human gelatin monster unscathed, and to ensure your everlasting adoration for us. Not that we were worried your affections were in danger, few can withstand out charm. Anyway, gotta go, Roxs, pranks to plan, first years to trip, Slytherin's to hex. Not." James continued hastily, "That your ickle prefect ears should know any of that." He winked gaudily in a way that only he can quite pull off. In seconds they were gone, back to the Gryffindor table to most certainly plan mischief. Sam stared after them with a sappy expression on her face.

I snorted to myself. I prefer it when they have Frank to balance out the crazy and infinite energy with his reasonableness. Unfortunately for the population of Hogwarts, Fred and James were unleashed to do any damage they saw fit without anyone to stop them from being expelled, even if it was only for a couple minutes. You would be amazed at the level of damage….

A loud laugh brought my attention to the Gryffindor table where my dear cousin and brother were doing who knows what. I shook my head, although their glancing looks towards the Hufflepuff table unsettled me. I did not think they would do something else today after the episode with Nashira, but since Frank was not here to stop them from launching another ludicrous plot, and they were not yet hindered by a detention today, I figured I should expect the worst. Whenever they got that particular gleam in their eyes, I knew it was wise to evacuate the premises. I guess I would have to enjoy my cookie(s) in a more secluded area. Besides, I had to meet with my potions partner in a couple minutes. But before I could stand up and warn Kelly and Samantha, I was too late.

I heard the buzzing sound first, and felt my stomach drop. Following the noise reluctantly, I was led to the peanut bowl, where hundreds of nuts were slowly levitating and turning into bees. Now, to most people it might seem childish and embarrassing, but I have been deathly afraid of bees ever since I accidently got locked in the Burrow's broomshed with a hive.

The bees, now fully transfigured, began swarming around all the Hufflepuff students who were unfortunate enough to come to lunch today. As several began to flock around my head, I felt my eyes water and tried to remain as still as possible. I heard the laughter of the other houses. Panic shot through my veins, along with a surprising amount of anger. Being scared of bees was not something I broadcasted, but James and Freddy _knew_. I felt my legs begin to shake and a high pitched squeak burst from my mouth as one landed on my face. I began to shudder, and my hands started to quiver. I dropped my cookie and pushed away from the bench with more force than necessary. Without even bothering to grab my bag, I ran out of the Great Hall, trying to stop myself from breaking down completely. Sam yelled after me. I wiped harshly at the few tears that escaped. I shoved through the doors leading to the entrance hall, pawing at my hair, and ran straight into the surprised figure of Frank Longbottom.

Frank grasped my shoulders to steady me, started to smile, and then noticed my expression and the few tears gathering in my eyes. His expression immediately turned worried, and cerulean eyes peered down at me in concern.

"Roxy? Are you alright? What happened?" I tugged away from him and shook his hand off, before dashing past him up the main staircase with the sole thought of getting away.

After collapsing in a corridor on the fourth floor, I sat gasping for breath with my head between my knees. My eyes started watering again, more out of embarrassment than lingering fear. I pictured Frank's face, and the laughter of the entire hall, and then closed my eyes and leaned me head back against the cool stones of the alcove I was hidden in. I couldn't believe how warped their humor had become if they seriously thought that was funny. It made me sick. Not to mention it was extremely cliché. Huffpuffs being associated with bees? _Really?_ I know we have the same colors and are both associated with flowers and happiness, but still. We have been hearing that for years. If they were going to terrorize my house, they should have at least had the decency to be original. Normally I am a pretty even tempered person, but this had me wanting to strangle and demand just what was wrong with their heads. I hugged my knees. Stupid James. Stupid Fred.

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~~~~~~~~Nashira Point of View~~~~~~~~

Stupid Potter. Stupid Weasley. Glowing blue slime? Psh, I can deal. Smelly, glowing blue slime? We have issues. Three hours after my stunt as a slime monster, and I still smell like I have been consorting with piles of garbage. Even after skipping Charms to shower (and thus falling behind in another class. Thanks boys), I still reek of decaying garbage left to bake in the sun. I even swallowed my pride and "borrowed" some of Paisley McCormack's Weasley Wizard Wheezes WonderWitch Perfume. So now I smell like a pile of garbage on a date. Maybe I would sneak out tonight and see if I could use the Prefect's bathroom (the current Heads are remarkably predictable with the passwords). At elevenish I probably could make it without getting detention. After six years of wondering the halls after dark, I had become rather good at avoiding teachers and Peeves. Not to mention, I knew quite a few secret passages ways.

I scraped the slime out from under my fingernails and reclined in my seat by the window, glancing towards the library door. Roxanne Weasley was supposed to have met me here ten minutes ago. I had been here for the past fifty minutes, having finally abandoned my lunch early due to the unappetizing smell I was emanating. I got to spend my lunch period holed away in the library like some Ravenclaw. Although to be fair, I did this surprisingly often. I liked the library when it was empty; it was much easier to think. I frowned and bit down my annoyance. Roxanne Weasley was usually on time, if not early.

For the last two years, Professor Wilson had pared Roxanne and me together for potions partners. I think it was her (somewhat desperate) attempt at house unity. Roxanne and I got on well. She was smart and did her work with no threatening/intimidation from me, but we never really got to know each other (she fraternizes with Potter and Weasley). Each month we have to do a potions project, consisting of a written part and a potions portion. Roxanne and I divided the work and rotated it each project. It is not exactly what Wilson had in mind for these projects, but if she really wanted us to do it together, she should have given us time in class. This time, I had to do the written part about Euphoria potions, and Roxanne was supposed to brew it. We were supposed to meet up (twenty minutes ago now) and go over the paper together. I glanced at my watch. Potions started in fifteen minutes, and I still had to go to the dungeon. Wonderful.

I began packing my stuff up, throwing my quills and the parchment into my bag, and started the walk to the dungeon. I arrived early, and set my bag down at my station in the middle of the classroom. There was only one sixth year class, so all the houses were meshed together in one big class. It was still partially empty right now, with a couple people milling around in little groups. I opened my bag, digging through broken quills and torn pieces of parchment, avoiding the crumpled letter my father had sent me this morning, and searching for my potions book. More people began trickling in, and my friend, Lianne Patterson waved to me as she walked in with her boyfriend. To top it off the stream, the Marauders came in with their typical fanfare of loud laughing and immature jokes. There was still no sign of Roxanne. Professor Wilson rose from her desk in a swirl of navy blue robes. With a flourish of her wand, the chalk began writing the instructions on the blackboard. I noticed the Marauders also glancing over to Roxanne's empty seat.

With a bang that caused the entire class to swivel for the second time today (thankfully not to look at me this time), the classroom door was thrown open, revealing Roxanne Weasley. Her brown hair was frizzled, her eyes looked wild, and her breath came in short gasps. In short, she looked like a mess. Her tanned skin darkened when she noticed everyone watching her. Wilson eyed her appearance and seemed to take pity on her (surprise, surprise, we have a decent potions professor) and waved Roxanne to her seat.

Roxanne slouched over, and sunk into her seat, looking as if she was trying to disappear. Despite everyone's eyes, she kept hers focused on our desk, even though she had to have seen her brother gesturing to her. Eventually my good side won over.

"Are you alright?" My voice split the silence between us. Roxanne glanced up, startled.

"Yeah, fine." Her tone was curt, although she immediately looked a bit apologetic. Suddenly, her head shot up and she began to swear (Huh. Who knew the Hufflepuff princess had such a good vocabulary? Although, again, she does hang out with the biggest prats in the school).

"We were supposed to meet in the library before class! I am so sorry! I cannot believe I forgot." Well at least she apologized. Given her appearance at the moment, I suppose I could let it slid.

"I guess it's alright. When did you want to go over the project then?"

"Just give it to me, and I can read it over. I am sure it's fine, it always is. I really am sorry Nashira." Roxanne ran her hands through her hair, mussing it up even more than its current caveman state (ok, that was a little mean. But I swear it had nearly doubled in size. Normally it was all nice and sleek, and now, well, it wasn't).

"Um. Ok, thanks. Is the potion all done then?"

"Oh, yeah, I have it right here." Roxanne glanced towards her feet where she normally dropped her bag. And promptly began swearing again (I have to say, I am kind of impressed. I never knew that she had it in her).

"Great. Fantastic. This is just what I need today." Sarcasm, I detect? "Sorry Nashira, I apparently left my bag in the Great Hall, which had the potion in it. If you were not able to tell at lunch, I don't really like bees." Um, okay? What about bees? Of course the day I skip lunch something interesting would happen. At my confused expression Roxanne shook her head.

"Never mind then. Kelly or Sam probably picked it up. Anyway, the potion is all done." At that moment, Professor Wilson rapped her knuckles on our desk.

"Get started girls." Glimpsing around, everyone else had already gotten the ingredients from the cabinet and were starting. Oops.

Forty minutes later, and our potion was well on its way. We had to let it simmer for ten minutes, stirring every other minute. Potions is my favorite class, and my best one. When I graduate, I want to go into developmental and discovery potions at St. Mungos. Our potion was currently a dark orange, almost the exact shade as the book's. Roxanne seemed to have calmed down, and her hair had deflated somewhat. All in all? It was a pretty good potions class. Or it was, until Gitface and his twin (well, cousin technically) Twithead (creative names, are they not?) decided to interrupt the peace. Again. Oh, and if you are wondering, Potter's Twithead.

To my surprise, Roxanne glared at them as they approached. Really, what did I miss at lunch? The Hufflepuff Princess rarely had ugly expressions on her face, and that expression could have curdled milk. Upon their arrival, Twithead cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Sorry, Roxs. Might have gone a bit overboard today." I raised my eyebrow. Twitface apologizing? Hufflepuff Princess' ugly expression? Now I am curious….

"Might have? Are you sure about that? Because you really don't sound sure." Roxanne's voice had risen in pitch and volume towards the end of the sentence. Twithead and Gitface winced. They _winced_. I have never seen them wince, ever. Even in the face of McGonagall. May wonders never cease?

"We did not mean it, we weren't thinking. Frank wacked some sense into us after. We brought your bag though." So they had. Not completely useless then. Roxanne grabbed it from Weasley and sighed.

"Whatever. Just be glad I already expelled all my murderous intentions." They sent her cheesy smiles, seeming to know they were more or less forgiven. Wilson shooed them back to their seats, where Frank Longbottom was keeping their potions from exploding, leaving us in peace and raising the average IQ by a good 100 points (Ok, I am not normally quite this degrading towards them, but I smelled like spoiling garbage! And I lowered myself to the point where I "borrowed" Paisley's perfume! Paisley, of all people! Today they deserved it. Normally I can accept they are prats and move on, but today they seemed determined to grate against my brain. So ha. They get mental bashing. REVENGE! )

After the ten minutes of simmering, I started adding the porcupine quills, with Roxanne stirring.

"Ok, next we have to-" BAM. Oh joy. More onomatopoeia, which seems to be the harbinger of trouble. This time the sound came from Roxanne's bag, which had exploded, sending parchment and quills everywhere.

"JAMES! FRED!" Roxanne looked murderous. I was actually worried, and I come from a house that is supposed to consist of backstabbing killers (go silver and green!).

Fred yelped. "Sorry Roxs! I forgot I put that in there when we passed Filch…" James wacked him on the head with the back of his hand. Professor Wilson waved her hand, and all the objects from Roxanne's bag that were whirling around the room froze for a moment, then shot towards her in a neat pile. She waved her wand again, and they filed back into Roxanne's bag. Roxanne's expression turned slightly less vicious, and then brightened at Wilson's next words.

"Detention, Potter, Weasley."

Muahahaha (my evil laugh. The mental one, that is). A wonderful end to a potions class!

It was eleven thirty at night, and I was in a rather good mood. I had just come from the Prefects' bathroom (password, Dumbledore. Took me thirty seconds to guess, a new record), and smelled of soap and other pleasant things not consisting of rot. I felt clean for the first time that day. Now I was wondering the halls of the fourth floor, enjoying the silence, except for my quiet footsteps lightly echoing. Some might be creeped out by the dark halls of Hogwarts, but six years of night time explorations, I have gotten used to it (so have my dorm mates. Now they know not to hex the intruder opening the door at two in the morning). Plus, it is pretty easy to avoid the patrols if you know how, and the last time I had gotten a detention for being out of bed after curfew was in fourth year. By now I had reached the staircase before the Entrance Hall.

Suddenly, I froze. Someone was holding a wand high in the air for light as he or she walked towards the staircase. It did not appear to be a teacher, as the light bobbed with a movement that clearly indicated wrongdoing. The figure was also looking around, obviously worried about the possibility of being spotted. By whom, I was not sure. Nobody really patrolled at this time, so it had to be someone new to sneaking. My heart pounding at the improbability of meeting someone at this hour, I started moving slowing back up the stairs, planning to hide in an alcove at the top. Before I could get very far, the person abruptly trained the light right on me. My hand shot up to block the sudden brightness, and I squinted, trying to see. A voice cut through the silence.

"Nashira?"

"Roxanne!?"

This is my first story, and I am super Super SUUUUUPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEERRR excited! This is at least my fifth time writing this, but I have finally mustered the confidence to put it up! Now I just hope all the formatting is right (please let me know if you see any problems). I thank you in advance for all the reviews (Cuz I know any of you reading this would not want to disappoint a poor, pitiful, newbie author). Please, please, please review! I know this was just the introductory chapter, and not a lot of action has happened yet, but was it too boring? Did my terrible grammar hinder your reading too much (I tried my best to edit it, but commas still elude me)? Did you even like it? TELL ME ANYTHING! (please).


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: J. owns all! (to my utter dismay and regret)

Okie, quick recap. Nashira is sneaking through the dark creepy hallways like an evil little Slytherin after having just completely deslimed herself. All of a sudden! She sees a light. Pointed at her. And then she hears a voice….

"Nashira?"

"Roxanne?!"

Yes, yes, all very dramatic (ok. Not particularly. But soon I promise, I love drama!). Here's my newest creation (Muahahaha)

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You can imagine why my heart felt like it was trying to escape through my ears. First I had to sneak out in the middle of the night, which I had not done for years (The Marauders decided stopping by the Hufflepuff common room was just too much effort for their highnesses). Then I hear a small noise, cluing me into the fact that apparently I am not alone in the dark, deserted room. And the someone I am sharing these lovely shadows with (where, might I add, nobody would hear my scream or discover my body until tomorrow morning) is actually my potions partner, whom I stood up this afternoon, and whom is rumored to have been receiving training in the dark arts since she was four (well, James told me that, but it could be true!).

Thankfully, she did not exactly look murderous right now. Her face probably exactly mirrored my own, with her eyebrows making a decent attempt to rip free from her forehead, and her mouth hanging open. I must admit, I was quite intimidated by her pajamas with the dancing cookies on them; it really set the mood for an upcoming homicide. After gaping at each other for several seconds, we both spoke perfectly in sync.

"What are you doing here?"

Well. Since you asked, several minutes ago I suffered the painful realization that in my idiotic brother's bumbling in potions today, he had destroyed our potion. Yes, the one that is due tomorrow and is half of the grade. So being the self-sacrificing Hufflepuff, I reluctantly agreed to spend the night away from my warm and appealing bed, instead opting to spend it surrounded by sliced toad eggs and all the other not-so-euphoric ingredients ironically in our Euphoria potion. Solely so you do not have another reason to attempt to kill me. Exciting, yes? The real question is why you are slinking around in the dark like some plundering axe murderer, hmmmmm?

"I had to …do something." Nashira looked skeptical at my completely unsuspicious, ambiguous reply.

"Do …something?" She drew out the reply, waiting for me supply more information.

"Indeed. And why have you decided to grace the nighttime hallways of Hogwarts with your presence?"

"I had to go somewhere." Nashira gave me a small, cheeky grin that fit the profile of the axe murderer worryingly well. I surveyed her again.

"You were using the prefects' bathroom, right?" She looked a bit thrown off by my casual tone (ha ha I disconcerted a Slytherin). Do not underestimate me. Even though it has been years since I was included into their little group, I used to be one of the main masterminds in the Marauders' pranks. She interrupted my thoughts of former glory with a questioning looked. I nodded to the dark, wet mass piled on her head. "You did not dry your hair. Does Olivia know you have the password?" Olivia Bennet is the Headgirl. She has somewhat of a superiority complex, and would have been horrified to know that her special bathroom and been defiled by a mere _normal_ student, and not one of us glorious Prefects.

"Of course not. And she won't, either." She gave me a pointed look. "Besides. It's your brother's and cousin's fault." She grumbled under her breathe, mentioning something about "prats" and a"twithead." Finally she finished ranting her inner monologue berating my family.

"What are you actually doing here? Feel free to elaborate a bit more on 'doing something.'" Pity. I thought she did not notice my subtle steering away from that topic. I was not looking forward to revealing that our project was only halfway finished. I sighed.

"I realized a couple minutes ago that our vial of Euphoria potion got broken when Fred exploded my bag in potions today. " I was planning to sneak up to the Room of Requirement to brew it.

"Oh. I forgot about that." Cue the awkward silence. At least she was not freaking out. "Professor Wilson won't let us turn it in late, will she?" I shook my head, even though it was a rhetorical question. We both knew that last time someone had asked, Wilson had one of her rare instances of getting mad and informed us that the next person to ask would receive an automatic zero. Several expressions seemed to be warring across Nashira's face. Eventually a resigned look won. "I suppose I could help you. We were actually supposed to brew it together." I considered her proposal. We _were_ supposed to work together, and it would be nice having someone to keep me awake. Nashira was also brilliant at potions and could probably make it ten times better than me. On the downside, I would have to show her the Room of Requirement, and James would kill me if he found out. Decisions, decisions.

"That would be great!" That reply was a bit too chipper for agreeing to something that could very likely cause my death. Nashira's resigned expression deepened.

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I must admit. It is extremely fun to keep a Slytherin in the dark. Nashira glared at me the entire way to the Seventh floor, and I was half expecting her to rescind her offer and abandon me. I had not yet explained about the Room of Requirement and was looking forward to her shocked expression. She eyed the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy silently. I began pacing.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll see. Give it a moment."

"You randomly drag me to the seventh floor to work on some potion in the middle of the night, and now you are walking in cir-Merlin." And there is the expression I was waiting for. "Is that a _door_? Where did it come from? How did you…"

"This is the Room of Requirement. It only appears to someone in need of it. If you remember History of Magic, this is where Dumbledore's Army practiced, and where Ravenclaw's diadem was hidden. After the fire at the Final Battle, most people thought it was destroyed, but a couple years it popped back up. James has a theory that the room was repairing itself. Anyway, only a few people know about this room, and most of them still think it is destroyed. It will stay that way, unless you want to be the center of the Marauders' most painful and humiliating harassment." I accompanied this threat with a smile identical to Nashira's axe murderer one. She looked mildly impressed.

"Ok, no need to pull out the threats. I guess this does clarify a lot about the Golden Trio's adventures. I always wondered why there was no huge burned down room full of scorched rubbish." I dragged open the heavy door, revealing a nicely lit room with two large plush chairs, a mini potions table, supplies, and a pewter cauldron.

"Woah." Nashira's expression had turned into wonder. "And to think, I almost abandoned you for a couple more hours of sleep. Instead I get to discover magical rooms _and_ learn the Marauders' secrets. All in all, a rather satisfying night." Nashira sent me a toothy grin. "I suppose we should get started then. How long does this potion take anyway?"

"Six hours." I smirked at her horrified look. "Still worth it?"

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Four hours into the potion and I was very glad that Nashira did not abandon me for a couple hours of sleep. She saved me from miscounting at least three times, and managed to salvage the potion the time I added the extra cup of toad eggs, effectively turning the potion blue and causing it to nearly boil over. James and Fred would have heart attacks if I told them this, but working with Nashira was surprisingly fun. She was funny and sarcastic, and not nearly the evil, stonehearted, emotionless, self-centered Slytherin they promised me she was. What a surprise, right? We got on quite well, and it turns out she also has an obsession with the House Elves' chocolate chip cookies (I should have guessed from the dancing cookie pajamas). I learned more about her in the last four hours than I had being her partner for the two years.

For instance, I learned she…

-Hates transfiguration (Why does someone need to know how to turn an owl into opera glasses? Teach us something useful)

-Is on the quidditch team (keeper)

-Once dated the Slytherin quidditch captain (and now heavily regrets that decision)

-Has a "reckless and idiotic" older brother (who she loves anyway. Most of the time)

-Has a muggle cousin (her aunt is a squib) who introduced her to "real music"

-Thinks Celestina Warbeck should have a permanent silencio charm placed on her (She's ancient, can barely speak in a raspy whisper let alone sing, and yet still insists on singing grossly provocative songs fit for hormonal teenagers. It's disturbing)

-Thinks the Weird Sisters are decent enough for "wizard music."

-Is horrified at the suggestion preteens could still find Oliver Wood attractive (He has a son! Two years younger than us!)

-Thinks some of the Marauders' pranks actually do have the potential to be funny (at least, until one finds out they can buy the same prank in next month's Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes' catalog).

The whole time we work, we had a solid flow of conversation. We shared a lot of the same opinions (even if she thinks the Weird Sisters are only "decent") and the same humor. It was kind of nice to speak to someone out of my normal social group, which about sixty percent of the time consists of my family. I never really thought that I would get along with Nashira, as her family does not exactly have the same ideals as my own. Basically, her father was a death eater.

From what I have heard from Aunt Hermione, Javier Alden was one of the death eaters given a softened sentence after the war. I'm not sure the exact reason, but I think he only had to spend seven years in Azkaban. After he got out, he used the Alden fortune to start a chain of Apothecaries and is now an "upstanding member of this community." Apparently. My family has never really liked him because although he has never mentioned blood purity again, he is one of the most avid adversaries against rights for halfbreeds and other species.

As far as I can tell, Nashira does not seem to share his opinions though. I guess it is too soon to be sure, but she kind of surprised me.

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Nashira Point of View

Roxanne (or Roxie, as I have been told to call her) Weasley kind of surprised me. After we got past that awkward I-have-known-you-for-the-last-two-years-but-never-really-talked-to-you-stage we got along swimmingly. Who would have thought someone related to James Potter and Fred Weasley not only had a brain, but was smart. And funny. And _nice_. It is quite the conundrum. Possibly the oddest thing of all was that she actually seemed to listen to me without judgment. In the last wizarding war, my father was recruited by Voldemort to be a death eater. While he did support Voldemort's ideas, he was human enough to disprove of the methods. But when they threaten your family's death and torture, you do not really have a choice. Unfortunately, that choice has followed my father around for the rest of his life, and has already dug its hands into my brother and me.

My father is a well-known death eater, and since I am family, I obviously share his exact same beliefs. Never mind the fact that my mother is surprisingly liberal and has been silently influencing him for the last twenty-seven years (it is actually very funny to watch because he never realizes it. Had my mother not gone to school in the United States, she would have been a Slytherin). People do not realize that though, they never do. I used to never be allowed to leave the house without an adult, for fear that someone would attack me for retribution (as much as I hated that, I can understand. We have received a fair share of threats over the years). I went to a wizarding primary school for the first couple years of schooling, but the bullying and isolation got so bad that my dad even consented to my transfer to the local muggle school where my cousin Sara went. I hate it when wizards and witches assume I dislike muggles and whatnot, when in truth, I know a lot more about their culture than they ever will. But talking to Roxie, I never got the sense that she disliked me because of my father. It was sadly refreshing.

I glanced at Roxie over the potion, which now had only an hour left to brew. At around three, I took a trip to the kitchen and brought up coffee and chocolate chip cookies, and now she was shoving a cookie into her mouth with all the elegance and grace of Barnabas' dancing trolls from the tapestry outside. As much as I knew I would regret my lack of sleep tomorrow (well, today technically), I am glad I decided to help Roxie. It turns out the Hufflepuff is not quite the pansy I used to thinks she was.

For example, I found out that she…

-Loves all her classes and retains spotless grades (much to the amusement of her father) like the good little Ravenclaw she is not.

-Has not played quidditch for years, but follows the Holyhead Harpies, of which I completely approve.

-Is shocked I could ever have been stupid enough to date Kevin Goyle,

-Has never had a boyfriend due to the fact she has several unwanted "bodyguards" who claims all the guys who fancy her are gits, prats, idiots, too fickle, too stupid, unreasonably short, shifty around the eyes, slimy, weak, or arrogant (My personal favorite. It is just so full of unbridled hypocrisy). Considering they were describing Andrew Bones, who is about as smart and as nice as a teenage boy is capable of being, I think Roxie might be out of luck on this one.

-Also has a "reckless and idiotic" brother who she loves anyway. Most of the time.

-Is forced to listen to Celestina Warbeck at family gatherings. I pity her.

-Is obsessed with the Weird Sisters. And does not like people casting them away to the level of merely "decent."

Yep, it was quite the informative day (and I got to learn a Marauders' secret! Muahaha. Sabotage perhaps? I am a Slytherin…). For the last five minutes I have been listening to Roxie rapidly rant about the Marauders. Although she seems to have made up with them, she appears to not have gotten over the pranks from yesterday completely (my doormates filled me in on the bee prank).

"…but really, their pranks have reached a ridiculous level. They don't even think anymore. And you're right, half the time they don't even come up with pranks, they are just promotions for the store. I don't know why my mom even lets them do it." I think she had too much coffee. "I mean, sometimes they really are funny, but most of the time they just do humiliating stuff." Very true. "If I were planning pranks I would do stuff that was generic, like pranking everybody at once, or even just all of the fifth years or something." Now this is an interesting twist. "Never just doing one person though, that's cruel, and especially not doing something that involves a person's greatest fear. That is just plain mean. And-"

"Ok Roxie. Are you volunteering to upstage the Marauders? Hmmmm? Do I sense rebellion in the midst of their loyal followers?" Roxie snort. Charming.

"I'm not an idiot."

"And yet you willingly choose to spend your time with them." I gave her a bright smile as she flicked some chopped mandrake root at me.

"I'm related to them. It comes with the job description of family." She gave a dramatic sigh that greatly resembled one of Potter's. It was my turn to snort. "Be thankful you like your one cousin." I flung a particularly large partly-crushed cockroach at her. She screamed. Pity though. It would have been fun to see the Marauders' expressions as someone stole the spot light from them. I think it would be good for their egos.

I surveyed the potion. It was just about done, thankfully. As interesting as this night has been, I really wanted to get to my dorm before the hallways flooded with students, and everyone got to see my gorgeous dancing cookie pajamas. It would completely ruin the intimidation factor. Roxie looked relieved when I told her we were about finished.

"Finally. Not that this has not been fun, but I would like my" she checked her watch "…two hours of sleep. Merlin, today is going to be terrible." I nodded helpfully. "Do you want to hold onto the potion? I don't trust James and Fred anymore to not blow it up." I smirked in assent, stowing the vial away in my robes. I glanced around the room.  
"So this will all just disappear when we leave?" It was a sad thought. The room was cozy and comfortable.

"Yup, but if we ever need it again, it will reappear."

"Let's hope we don't. Your brother and cousin might be lacking a couple body appendages if they blow up another potion the day before it's due. Unless you decide that you really do want to out-prank the Marauders, in which case, I'm all for plotting here!" I winked at her.

"I'll keep that in mind" was her dry response.

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I stumbled into the Slytherin Common room, yawning and half asleep already. The light from overhead cast a green glow on my skin, probably making me look ever so attractive. Not that I really cared at this point. I made my way past the sleek, black furniture towards my dormitory. Although the Slytherin common room gives off a chilly atmosphere, it has grown on me a lot since first year. It may not be all warm and touchy feely, but I think it captures the essence of Salazar Slytherin. It encourages independence and self-sufficiency (and the skulls are always a nice decorating touch).

I pushed open the heavy mahogany door to my dorm room, revealing a circular room with five beds. Unlike the common room, it was extremely obvious that this was the residing place of teenage girls. It was an odd décor style, meshing elegant furniture with makeup scattering the counters, thrown cloths adorning the strangest places, and posters of half-naked quidditch stars plastered on the walls (and one of Witch Weekly's most Charming smile finalists. Basically Potter, number five, gets to mercilessly taunt me with his cocky and infuriating smile at all times of the day). My bed was the closest to the door, in order to facilitate my nightly adventures. I quietly stepped into the room, as silent as possible. The results would not be pleasant if I woke up Paisley McLaggen, who abhorred me and was constantly looked for reasons to give me detention. My friend, Lianne Patterson, rolled over in bed, but everything else was still. I collapsed into my bed and was asleep in less than five minutes.

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Roxie Point of View

I collapsed into a seat at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, immediately dropping my head onto the table and letting out a groan. Sam and Kelly exchanged glances.

"You alright Roxie?" Peachy. Yep, just ignore the half-dead zombie.

"You have been pretty quiet all day, plus you didn't sleep in the dorms last night. Interrogation time!" Same cackled. "Were you with a guy?" I shot up, blushing at Sam's question. She laughed at my horrified expression, but before I could vehemently deny it, a voice answered for me.

"Unlikely. Roxie dearest isn't exactly popular with the male population." I turned at Fred's comment, frowning. James and Frank had accompanied my dearest brother to my lowly table. Two visits in two days by their highnesses! I would be more flattered if I was not running on two hours of sleep. As it was, I did not want to waste my precious energy dealing with their lunacy. Sam seemed to have gathered that I was not going to bother answering, so she replied for me.

"Please. We all know that's because you threaten anyone that comes within a meter to Roxie. I know at least three people who would die to go out with her." That was news to me.

"Three? Really? Who?" James' voice was just a tad too interested. Frank slapped his head, and I gave him a small smile. I have known Frank Longbottom my entire life. He is the smart and more studious (relatively, of course) one of the group. Uncle Harry says he is like Remus Lupin from the first generation of Marauders (Fred has claimed the title of Sirius Black, saying he shares the same dashingly good looks). He has soft brown hair that sometimes falls into his face and the most memorizing blue eyes I have ever seen. As Nanny Weasley says, he is "quite the looker." Unfortunately. As you might be able to tell, I have the smallest crush on him (barely worth mentioning really. It's only lasted eleven years. What can I say? He saved my teddy bear from being beheaded by Fred). James and Fred would probably murder him if we ever got together (of course, I am bypassing the step where he actually starts liking me, which itself is an improbability of the highest degree. There is nothing like sixteen years of familiarity to cement the friend zone).

Fred nabbed the seat next to me, throwing his arms over my shoulders, nearly causing me to collapse.

"Since we have already established that you were not with a guy, where were you last night? Planning a prank?" Fred guffawed at his own joke. "Like you could ever do that." Excuse me? I used to come up with all the ideas. It's just like Fred to completely forget that.

"I was with Nashira Alden." The result was immediate and satisfying. I sent Fred a little grin as he gave a small yelp of surprise. From the other side of me, James nearly spit out his water, and Frank raised his eyebrows. Kelly and Sam burst out laughing at their reactions.

"What in Merlin's name were you doing with the snake?" Fred's voice was incredulous.

"Brewing the potion that _you _destroyed yesterday. It's your entire fault really."

James looked uncharacteristically serious. "Roxie, you should stay away from her. She's bad news. Just look at her father."

"She's actually really nice and funny. I might actually consider her a friend now."

"I agree with Roxie. We had to work together for a Transfiguration project once, and she was not a horrible partner. Bloody terrible at transfiguration though." I smiled gratefully at Sam. Kelly silently nodded her head.

"Whatever. Just be careful Roxs, some people don't always have the best motives." A pang of guilt ran through me. As much as James could be judgmental, he did have a good reason. Last year he went out with the Ravenclaw Daphne Smith, who was apparently only going out with him for his father's fame. James has worked hard to break away from his father's image, and this was a slap in the face.

"I will be. She really does seem alright though." My voice came out a lot softer, although James still did not look convinced. From there the conversation turned to quidditch. The fall back subject it seems with all of my mates. It was to be expected. James was the Gryffindor Captain (he was a chaser), Frank and Fred were both beaters, and Sam was a chaser on the Hufflepuff team. Oh, and remembering last night's conversation, Nashira was keeper too. Do my friends really have no other hobbies? Quidditch never came as easily to me as it did with the rest of my family, so I avoided it whenever possible (leading to them getting better and better, while I just got more intimidated. They never ask anymore if I want to play). I sighed and looked to Kelly, who was the only other person not brainwashed by the topic of quidditch. She sent me a small grin. I closed my eyes briefly and prepared myself for a lunch period listening to the risks and benefits of a Wronski Feint.

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I am pretty sure I fell asleep somewhere between the heated exclamations of "it can win you the game!" and "it can kill your seeker!" Kelly woke me up just in time to head to potions. She and Sam were not taking sixth year potions, so I trailed after the Marauders down to the dungeons. Frank hung back with me, while James and Fred bounded on ahead. Apparently _they_ had not been up until six in the morning.

"So did you hear about Alice?" Alice was Frank's sister. She graduated five years ago, and was a Hufflepuff like me. I had not seen her since the summer, but I always love talking to her. She has quite a lot of sass, that one.

"No, what about her?" Fred smiled his signature smile, with one corner of his mouth curving up slightly. That smile was single handedly responsible for about a third of Hogwart's love struck girls (with James and Fred claiming the rest).

"She's getting married." My mouth dropped open. Even though Alice was only twenty two, she had been dating the same guy for the last six years. I had never met him, but Frank seemed to approve.

"What? When?"

"In the summer, probably. He proposed to her last weekend, she told me to spread the word to you." I smiled hugely.

"That's fantanstic! I will write her a letter today." I yawned. "Maybe tomorrow. Soon at least." Frank held the door to the potions classroom for me, and I waved at him as I headed to my seat. Nashira was already there, looking like she was under a sleeping draught. She sent me a sleepy "hey" as I plopped into my seat, just in time to hear Professor Wilson saying we would be making one of the more complicated potions today. Joy.

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"Add in the flitterbloom! No! One cup, not two."

"It's almost ready for the Dandelion roots. Are they chopped yet?"

"I thought they were whole?! Oh wait that's the Flutterweed."

Potions today was interesting. Half of the time we were screaming at each other about our mistakes, and the other part was spent in manically laughing over said mistakes. At least it woke me up. Wilson looked worried when she came over to grade our potion, but she gave us a nod and seemed to be happy with it. It was not our best potion we had ever brewed, but we were sleep-deprived and slightly insane. I do not know if Nashira noticed, but James also kept on staring at us, which was slightly nerve-wracking as well. But now it was over. And I could sleep. I gave a contented sigh, thanking Merlin I had a free afternoon.

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Nashira Point of View

He caught me as I made my way to the Slytherin dorms, in the hallway before the door. It was empty, so nobody was there to wonder why Gryffindor's prince was talking to the daughter of a Death Eater. He had grabbed hold of my arm, not holding it tight enough to be painful, but firm enough that I could not escape easily. His hazel eyes stared down at me, and it was unnerving to see such a serious expression. He was obviously trying to be intimidating, so, naturally, I plastered on my most bored expression.

"Did you need something Potter?" Coldly polite tone. Check! It was impossible not to notice how far he towered over me. Bloody bastard had to be at least 6'2."

"Since you asked, yes I do. I want you to stay away from Roxanne." Really now. Not surprising though. I had noticed him glaring at me all through potions, and was expecting him to corner me.

"And why should I do that?" Irritation flashed across his face, but he kept his tone level.

"Roxie is too nice to be pulled into whatever manipulative game you are playing Alden."

"What makes you think I have some sort of ulterior motive?" I was close enough to him that ninety percent of the female population (and some of the male too) would have been extremely jealous. I just wanted to get away and leave his stupidly gorgeous face behind (I don't like the guy, but I can at least admit he was blessed with looks, if not intelligence or human decency.)

"Your type always does." Streaks of anger started permeating their way into my heart.

"My type?" I twisted my wrist and pulled with all my strength, freeing myself from his grasp. I danced away a couple feet, and called over my shoulder with an icy voice I usually reserved for obnoxious first years, "I think Roxie's old enough to choose her own friends, I'm sure she appreciates the concern though!" I gave him a two-fingered salute before dashing down the next hallway. Bloody Potter.

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Chapter two is done! The entire time I was writing this, I have been planning what I wanted to say here (I forgot, of course). This chapter took me a while to write, so I may start writing shorter chapters. Possibly. (I always say stuff like that, but never follow through. We shall see). Tell me what you think! Are Roxie and Nashira too similar? (I am hoping to develop them further in later chapters, but I still need to decide exactly how I want them. And learn how to write in a different voice). It is still the introductory part, but was anything confusing? I feel like I don't have a lot of description, what do you think? Please, please review! It would make me very happy, and you would get the joy of knowing I will look at it and smile my head off (uh. Not literally). Win-win situation, yes?

Review! (Just in case you did not get the former hints) :)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling created it all... *wipes away tears of sadness and jealousy*

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With a wave of my hand I knocked the enchanted paper bird pecking at my forehead out of the air, sending a self-satisfied smirk to Nashira, who looked sad that her creation had been destroyed so easily.

"Don't mess with my homework. I swear, sometimes you have as short an attention span as Fred." She looked properly aghast at my (slightly exaggerated) comment. It is funny how quickly Nashira and I have become friends. It has been only two weeks since our unplanned late-night potions projects forced us to actually talk to one another, but in that time she has somehow wormed her way into my life, much to the displeasure of James and Fred. Perhaps if they actually ever came to the library, I would not have always been studying alone, and thus not have turned to Nashira for a study partner (she practically lives in the library too!) However, they have continuously neglected to visit me, and now I have someone else who I can drag into studying and who cab help keep me focused (well, not today, but most of the time).

I glanced up at Nashira, who was currently trying to transfigure several ripped up pieces of parchment, presumably into a miniature army to avenge her smashed bird. Her motives were so transparent. Luckily, her skills at transfiguration still remained marginal at best, despite my best attempts to help her over these past few weeks. At the crumbled pieces of paper's insistence on remaining crumpled pieces of paper, she exasperatedly pushed her dark hair out of her face. Nashira was very pretty in an aristocratic way, complete with the high cheekbones, straight noise, and death stare (well, that does not help so much with the pretty part). She had wavy deep brown hair, turquoise eyes, and skin pale enough to rival a vampire's. Probably because of her looks, until you got to know her, she gives off an air of stiffness and superiority, and one could definitely tell that she came from a long line of purebloods.

With mutual reluctance between both parties, I have been slowly been introducing Nashira to my family. I think most of my cousins believe Nashira is a transient part in one of my phases (specifically the I-am-going-to-abandon-my-wonderful-family-and-loyal-friends-to-spend-time-with-the-conniving-snake one. Dramatic, I know). Their reactions to our newfound friendship have varied from apathetic (Hugo), confused (Lily), and downright horrorstricken (guess who?). Dom gave her a skeptical look and muttered something about Slytherins being good kissers (much to both Nashira's and James's disbelief. This is the first time they agreed on something).

Being the mature, upperclassmen and role models, the Marauders have decided to show their joy at our friendship that transcends the house barriers between Badgers and Snakes by single mindedly striving to improve their own rapport with the Slytherin house through the one form of communication they are fluent in: pranking. Every Slytherin, even the first years, has been promoted from "a mere whiny annoyance" to "public enemy No. 1." Nashira cheerfully told me that the Slytherins have been taking advantage of this, and are now happily provoking the Marauders (sneakily, of course). I would feel worse if the Marauders were not acting with the maturity of moping monkeys.

I think James and been taking our friendship the hardest. He cannot seem to comprehend the possibility that Nashira is not rotten with evil. I might be more inclined to listen to him if he would stop behaving like an ignored three year old. Over the past two weeks that Nashira and I have been meeting in the library, he has developed a strange obsession with cleaning spells, and always seems to be lurking in the spell maintenance book aisle, which conveniently offers a clear view of our table and a perfect position to spy. I do not believe I have ever seen him spend so much time in the library (or so interested in hygiene).

He is here today again. When Nashira first settled down at the table, she sent him a cheeky wave, seemingly unperturbed by his scowl, or the fact that her hair turned neon orange seconds later. She probably would still be proudly wearing her "proof of battle" if I had not gotten fed up with seeing neon orange in the corner of my eye every other second, and transfigured it back for her. It was creepy. She looked like a Weasley.

"Roooxie. We have been studying for hours. Let's go to lunch." Nashira groaned. "My mind is about to explode from stuffing in irrelevant transfiguration information."

"That 'irrelevant transfiguration information' is the subject of our huge test next Wednesday." Nashira stared at me blankly.

"So we have four more days to study. Besides, it doesn't really matter if I fail. I am never going to go into a career that needs transfiguration, and I only took it this year because my father made me. So let's go to lunch!"

I let out a short laugh and started packing up my things. One thing I learned about Nashira is that she can be bloody stubborn.

I dragged Nashira to the Hufflepuff table, not quite ready for a repeat of yesterday's lunch. We sat with the Slytherins, and while I met Lianne, Nashira's friend, it was rather intimidating. The people were a lot more introverted than the Hufflepuffs, although it is entirely possible they just did not want to open up to the person who was pretty much the root cause to the Marauders' pranking proliferation. Whatever the reason, I had not quite built up my inner mental wall.

Nashira started to speak to Samantha about quidditch (of course) while simultaneously stuffing her plate. Apparently she had quidditch practice this afternoon, and was not looking forward to being reunited with the captain. She made a face at the Slytherin table. Eventually the conversation turned to the Halloween feast Wednesday, and even Kelly piped in, much to my surprise. Our conversation was interrupted by Matthew Davies from Ravenclaw, my charms partner. He cleared his throat, looking a bit awkward as everyone's eyes turned to him.

"Hey Roxie, do you think I could borrow your notes from yesterday?" I looked at him curiously.

"What happened to yours? You spent long enough on them." They were pages long. It made me feel like a huge under-achiever. I sent him a half smile.

"Oh. I lost them." That surprised me. Matthew Davies was absurdly organized.

I riffled around in my bag, triumphantly pulling out my notes, wincing when I realized they were slightly wrinkled.

"Here you go!"

"Thanks." Insert awkward pause (made worse by Nashira winking at me from the other side of the table). Matthew fiddled with my notes absentmindedly.

"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to…" Dear Merlin. He is going to ask me out. I glanced, panicked, at my friends. Sam gave me an encouraging little wave of her hand, Kelly watched with interest as a scene from her romance books came to life, and Nashira appeared oblivious to my distress, staring off into the distance. "You see, I wanted to know if you would accom-"

"Roxs! My dear, darling sister." Ah. So that is what she was watching. It figures they would interrupt at the most awkward moment possible. That was probably their intention actually. I could feel the heat slink up my spine as I turned my eyes to where Fred, James, and a reluctant looking Frank were standing. Fred gave me a little smirk.

We noticed that you have attracted quite the crowd." Fred pointedly eyed Nashira and Matthew. "We decided to join the party." James slide into a seat, looking disgusted when he realized he was sitting across from Nashira. Frank also stole a sit. Fred remained behind me, and started playing with my hair. I jerked my head away.

"Anyway, Davies, what were you saying? We did not mean to interrupt." I willed my eyes to look as apologetic as possible as the attention turned back to Matthew. He straightened, and seemed to regain some of his normal composure.

"Never mind. I should probably head back." He gestured towards the Ravenclaw table. "Schultz wanted me to look over some quidditch plays before practice tonight. We need all the practice we can get if we are going to beat you again." He directed this at the boys, and shot them a joking smile that did a terrible job of masking the little jab. James' jaw tightened. Ravenclaw narrowly beat them last year, and it was still a sore spot.

"I assure you we will put up a good fight." James' voice was brisk and chilly. "Don't count on your victory quite yet." He shot his own version of Matthew's fake smile. Matthew nodded.  
"Thanks again for the notes Roxanne. I will see you in charms Monday." As he departed, Fred made shooing hand motions. I ducked my head in embarrassment.

"Git." Fred's comment caused Nashira to snort.

"Yeah, he was the only one acting like a prat." Fred glared at Nashira and Sam rolled her eyes.

"What are you doing here, snake?" Nashira did not designate him with a reply, but turned back to her soup.

James tore his eyes away from Matthew's back.

"I cannot believe he actually thinks he will beat us this year." He practically snarled. "If he actually thinks Ravenclaw has a chance at the Quidditch cup, He's been confounded. We will win this year again." Sam raised her eyebrows in silent defiance against Hufflepuff's chances.

"Not likely Potter. The cup belongs to Slytherin." Nashira interrupted with a slow drawl. James opened his mouth, but before he could speak and instigate a long, drawn out fight with detailed arguments we have all heard a million times explaining precisely why Gryffindor would win, Frank interrupted.

"Stop it, all of you." I sent him a grateful look, trying to block out the fact that he had just witnessed Matthew asking me out. Looking directly at me, he continued speaking.

"What are you going to do about Davies, though? I assume you realized he was asking you out." His forehead was scrunched up slightly, I winced slightly at the reminder.

"Er. I duuno. I will have to think about it." My broken English made me die a little inside due to my awkwardness.

"She's not allowed to date! Especially someone I do not approve of." Fred chimed in, and I glared at him.

"Unfortunately it is not up to you." Stupid overprotectiveness…. "If I want to date him, I will date him."

"Honestly, though. I agree with Fred. Davies is a bit of a git. You deserve better." I stared at Frank incredulously. I could put up with James' and Fred's irrationality, but I expected him to act somewhat sane. Before, I would have thought he was acting jealous or something, but I have long since squashed down that hope after he tried to set me up with one of his other dormmates.

"I repeat. If I want to date him, I will date him." Truthfully, I did not want to date him. I have noticed in charms class that he has an annoying habit where he needs to be the best in everything he does. But I hated it whenever someone told me what to do. With one last glare at Frank, I turned back to my lunch, and spoke to Nashira, knowing it would irritate them more.

Lunch continued in relative "peace" (with me ignoring my brother and his friends, and them making jabs at Nashira) until dessert, when the owls came swooping down with their owner's letters. Two owls descended towards our table. One was Nimbus, my paranoid tawny owl (who sent a sharp nip at Nashira as a way of introduction, much to James' pleasure), and the other was a large, brown barred owl, who gracefully dropped a rolled up piece of parchment onto the table before Nashira.

I opened my letter, unsurprised that it came from my mum.

_Roxie,_

_I hope everything is well with you, and that classes are going well. Things here have been the usual pre-Halloween chaos, with your father once again doing his best to destroy the house. He has been feeding all the relatives' owls treats that that turn them different colors at random moments. Nearly gave Uncle Percy a heartattack Predictably, he has been spending extra time in the shops, trying to sort through the autumn rush. He sends his love, and asks you to remind Fred and James to owl him if they need any supplies for Halloween. Do not let them do anything that will get them expelled. Aunt Ginny heard from Lily that you have been spending time with a new friend from Slytherin, and that James and Fred are not happy about it. I think it is wonderful that you are trying to reach out. She also mentioned that her father was involved with Voldemort, so even though I encourage you to be friends, please be cautious as well. Don't let Fred and James boss you around though, and tell Fred to owl more. We have barely heard from him this year, and if we do, it is hurried letters that usually have a prank request attached.  
_

_We all send our love,_

_Mum_

I grinned at my dad's antics, and peeked at Nashira, who was skimming through her letter, unconsciously scrunching her forehead, and distractedly making mini soup waves, waterfalls, and splashes as she toyed with her spoon. I paused. Nashira did not really like to talk about her family. I assumed it was because her dad was a death eater and my family is renowned for their fighting against Voldemort. The whole my-dad-tried-to-kill-your-dad thing is always a hinder in good conversation. I figured it would come up when we were better friends, but now it was still awkward to casually chat about over lunch. But I was curious. James did not seem to grasp the normal etiquette rules, and, after looking up when she opened the letter and noticing her tense expression, he preceded to bluntly vomit out his thoughts.

"Who is the letter from? Some new Death Eater friend?" James could not stop a thread of curiosity from weaving through his expression. No emotions flickered across Nashira's face as she casually folded the letter in her hand, deliberately so James could not see. A small smirk graced her features for an instant, but it did not escape the attention of James. He narrowed his eyes.

"It is 'from whom.'" Nashira's response caused James to blink.

"Excuse me?" She sighed.

"You said 'who is the letter from.' It is supposed to be 'from whom is the letter.' It is simple grammar. And the answer to your question is 'none of your concern.'" James' irritation was palpable, but went largely unnoticed by the rest of the table, who had long since returned to their own conversations once they realized Nashira and James were bickering again.

They have been acting like this all week. James would take on the façade of a stubborn, brainless nitwit, and Nashira would subtly provoke him. It as irritating, and I tried to avoid situations where they were brought together. At first, I think Nashira only believed the Marauders to immature and oblivious, but since they have been jabbing at sore spots, her opinion of them has been rapidly worsening. The Marauders are like that (well, less so Frank). They either leave the impression of funny and charismatic people (which they are) or idiotic, insensitive ones (which they can be, but it is not the reigning personality). Nashira had not known them long enough to get past the prat exterior, and they were doing nothing to aid the introduction of their better selves.

The following squabble was short and one-sided, and I did not react to what was happening until after Nashira was clutching her hand, where she had claws instead of fingernails, and James was triumphantly holding the letter in his grasp. My dad had taught him and Fred that hex last summer. I sputtered for a second.

"James! Stop it! Give it back to her." He ignored me, unfolded the letter, and immediately jumped to the bottom.

"Who is Simon?" His words spurred Nashira into action. A second later, her wand was out and pointed straight at his throat. The people around us quieted down, and several heads began turning at other tables. Nashira's and James' eyes locked. I kept on glancing between them and towards the teachers, unsure of what to do. Thankfully, none of the staff had noticed yet. After a tense moment, James mockingly raised his hands into a placating motion, dropping the letter on the table. Nashira lowered her wand, swiped it off the table, and left with a swish of her robes.

Six pairs of eyes stared after her.

"What just happened?" Sam was looking questioningly at James and me.

"James was just being his typical git self." James looked a bit hurt.

"Roxie, it is for the best if you stay away from her. Who knows what she is really wants."

"Considering I have actually spent time with her away from prats who purposely pry into her business and judge her, I think I would know better than you 'what she is after.' Stop judging her just because her family was involved in something years ago, before she was even born."

"This isn't about some little scandal! Her father was a Death Eater. She has probably been learning dark magic since birth."

"Yeah, because the ministry would really allow that. You know Death Eater families were kept under surveillance."

"They _were._ Not anymore. You do not know what they are up to now. For all you know, they may want revenge, and having Alden get close to you is just the first step in their twisted manipulation. I know it sounds harsh, but I have been in the spotlight a lot more than you, and some people just lack the basic amounts of decency. She will betray you."

"You do not know that! Because you do not know her at all! Stop judging her because of her father. You hate it when people compare you to your dad, stop being hypocritical." James laughed bitterly.

"It's different."

"No, it is really not. You should at least try to get to know her before you start condemning her. She would not become involved with any of that stuff."

"Really? Are you sure? Than what was that?" James waved his hands in the air, vaguely gesturing to where Nashira had disappeared. "She completely blew up just because I looked at some stupid letter. Do not tell me that that did not seem suspicious at all."

"That does not mean she is up to dark magic, only that she does not like it when people who have done nothing but attack her try to shove their noses into her business."

"Doubtful. You will see. One day you will see that I was right." With that dramatic and ominous line, James swept out the same door Nashira left, leaving gaping mouths to fanfare his exit.

Fred cleared his throat. "We do not want you to get mad at us. We just do not want you to see you hurt. You are more likely to have your sympathies and emotions taken advantage of."

"Because I am a Hufflepuff?"

"Well, yeah."

"And the brave, valiant Gryffindors would never be duped."

"You know that is not what we are saying."

"I just want to you guys to try and be nice to her, before you decided she is the spawn of the devil." Fred shrugged. The rest of the meal carried on in silence.

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~~~~~~~~~~Nashira Point of View~~~~~~~~~~~

After storming out of the Great Hall and changing my hand back to normal, I went down to the quidditch pitch. I still had an hour before practice started, and I wanted to fly for a bit to release my pent up anger. As I kicked off into the air, I immediately felt better. The feeling of suffocating vanished, and I felt like I could breathe again. Flying is my favorite thing about quidditch, and one of the reasons I think I would have enjoyed being a seeker more than being a keeper. When playing keeper, I am confined to one part of the pitch, where as seeker, I could have spent most of the game soaring above the rest of the players, and feeling as light and free as the wind. Unfortunately for my inner poet, Scorpius Malfoy is a way better seeker than I am, and my talents lay in keeping.

I zoomed around the pitch several times, letting the wind whip my hair and tug it from its hair tie. Soon all other sounds faded, and I could concentrate on the feeling of flying, of being bird's eye view, and surveying the people moving below, so small and toylike that it further added to the otherworldly feeling I get from flying. I breathed in, letting the calmness seep into my veins. I thought back to what happened at lunch, and my stomach clenched.

I did not mean to react so extremely towards Potter, but my reactions kicked in. Simon was not ready for people to know about him yet, and certainly not someone like Potter. A part of me wished it had just been a normal letter from my parents, so I could have watched Potter's face as he realized I was writing about school like any normal teen. Ah well. At least I had heard from Simon. It had been three weeks since I received my last letter from my brother, and I was curious to see how he was adjusting in the United States. I exhaled and crouched down, willing the broom to go faster, and shooting off into the late morning air in a rush of exhilaration. All the anger from lunch got left behind as I zoomed around the pitch. A wild grin split my face. This is the reason I love quidditch, and motivation behind putting up with Kevin Goyle and the long quidditch practices. Eventually I was forced to land, as the rest of the team appeared on the pitch.

Kevin raised his eyebrows at me, before calling the team to attention. Kevin Goyle is several inches shorter than Potter (to my amusement), has cropped brown hair, a crooked nose, and thick eyebrows. I wish I could say his overly bulky body form was compensation for lack of brains, but he is surprisingly calculating and good at drilling into people's weaknesses. He perpetually wears a half smirk that is nearly as infuriating as Potter's, and has expressionless dark eyes to top off the brawny-mysterious look. All those people fortunate enough not to have dated him might call him attractive. I know better. He may have decent looks, but all of his redeeming qualities are quickly being sucked into the black hole that is his heart.

I used to excuse his ruthless behavior because of what happened to his sister eight years ago, but I am starting to realize I have been a bit too condoning, especially when we were dating. Barely anybody knows (I only do because they were my friends growing up and our families have been friends for ages) but eight years ago, right before Kaitlin Goyle was going to attend Hogwarts, she was killed. I do not know the details, such as who did it or why it happened, but I know that Kevin was there, and held her as she died. As terrible as Kevin could be, I could never hate him. However, I truly believe that his sister's death has been eating at his soul for years. Too often, everyone - his parents, relatives, and I- have written off anything bad he did as a result of what happened to Kaitlin, and he has never been held responsible. I may not get along with him now, but he was one of my best friends growing up, and I am worried he will one day be devoured by his bitterness.

After an eternity of having burly, absurdly strong teenager boys launch overweight balls at me with all the force they possess, my hands felt like needles were stabbing into them. The rest of the team was not in much better shape, but our dearest captain has squashed out all of his compassion and had no pity for us "unmotivated slackers." Kevin Goyle was a fantastic quidditch player, and it would not surprise me if he went into a professional league after graduation. He is one of the few players that can challenge Potter. They have a huge rivalry, which translates into many hours of quidditch practice for us.

"Is he acting more insane than usual this year?" Ella Payton, a fourth year chaser, whispered to me, wiping pieces of sweaty hair from her face.

"Yes." I responded bluntly. "Although I think there is more pressure this year. He does not want to lose to Potter again." Last year we lost the Quidditch Cup against Gryffindor in the final round. I may have a lot of different opinions, but I wholeheartedly agree that we need to crush Potter this year. Especially after lunch today. My stomach recoiled again.

"I suppose so. He has been snapping at you more than everyone else." That was true. He was especially merciless in his criticism of me. I suspect he might be slightly bitter that I dumped him. Something about male pride and whatnot, although I think it more likely he realizes it would be a waste of effort to pretend in front of me.

Kevin and I got together at the end of last year, and dated throughout the summer. He seemed surprised that I ended it after he dragged me to a summer party and then proceeded to spend the entire night flirting (leering at really) with Dominique Weasley (right in from of me, mind you). Apparently he was just trying to wield Potter's Quidditch secrets out of her, and I was being selfish and accusing based on ridiculous rumors. It was very comforting to find out he thought I had the intelligence of a flobberworm. And with that, Kevin Goyle and I were no more.

"Everyone, gather up." We all huddle around him, like weary puppies (very fitting with the Slytherin image). "We have our match against Gryffindor in three weeks. We have the better team, and we can, without a doubt, crush them this year. However, we need all the practice possible. This means absolutely NO detentions. I do not care what excuses you have, there will be none." Here he shot a glare at the beaters, Cory and Perry, who were renowned for hexing other teams before the match. After staring at each of us (harnessing the typical pureblood Death stare that I picked up from him), he nodded, and we were released from our suffering. On the way out, he grabbed my arm and pulled me aside.

"Look Nashira. I do not care who you spend time with, but if I hear anything about you letting some play slip to Potter, you will be off the team." I stared at him incredulously.

"Really, Kevin? You think I am going to tell _him _something?" I snorted. "Not likely." He grinned slightly at my reaction.

"Didn't think so. However, it was my duty to remind you. Tell me if he tries to weasel anything out."I nodded, a bit confused at his attempt of reason. Normally he just skipped to controlling twit. "But if he happens to let something slip… well. It would not hurt to mention it." My expression cleared. So that was what he wanted.

"Again, not likely. We both know Potter is about as talkative as a box glued shut with permanent sticking charm when it comes to quidditch." He sighed and waved me off. I went gladly.

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Roxie Point of View~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frank caught me on my way to my dorm, causing me to jump when he silently popped out from behind an alcove. I stood frozen for a moment, before relaxing into a glare.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Psh, never. You are the only sane person around here." He gave me his half smile (proof itself that he was, indeed, trying to murder me). I tried to hold back my blush, and looked for something to distract me. I glanced at his hands, where he was holding the Marauder's Map. "James gave it to me. He wanted to make sure you were alright."

"So he sent you?"

"Yup. Figured I would be the least likely to blow up and cause another argument." Well yeah, but that's because I am in love with you. I sincerely hope James does not know that though. "So are you?" At my questioning look, he elaborated. "Alright, I mean. They really do not mean to insult you or say that you cannot take care of yourself, they are just worried." I sighed.

"I know, but it is irritating when they never trust my judgment. Fred is off in his own little world half the time, and, no offense to James, but he does not exactly have the best track record when it comes to people." We both thought back to Daphne Smith, his old girlfriend.

"Well, you willingly choose to spend your time with us, so I do not know how much that supports your theory about having good judgment." I lightly slapped him with the back of my hand.

"A decent point. But Nashira is a really nice person, and I think she has been misunderstood a lot. I just want them to give her a fair chance."

"I will talk to them, but they are dead set against her. I think they believe that you will stop hanging out with her if they pressure you long enough. They think it is just a matter of time before you cave."

"So basically they are just going to ignore me and purposely act irritating until I decide that my friendship with Nashira is not worth risking my 'family bonds.'" My voice was flat, and Frank's expression turned worried. Apparently this was not part of the plan.

"No! I just meant that they know you value loyalty and family above everything else. It is not a bad thing!"

"Really? Letting my family purposely manipulate me is not bad. And they have the nerve to say that Nashira is using me. They are just as bad! Worse, actually, because Nashira is _not_ using me."

" But you have to admit, sometimes you tend to sit back and go along with their plans. "

"Well not this time. Please relay back to my brother and cousin that this time I am not caving. Nashira is my friend, and if they truly love me, they had better get used to it." I whirled around and started heading back towards the direction from where I came, ignoring Frank's shouts.

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~~~~~~~~~~~Nashira Point of View~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four hours, a shower, and several chocolate frogs later, I was back in the library, sitting at my normal table (in the back of the library, near a huge window. My specific table is lathered with graffiti, an added bonus to keep me amused when I need a study break. Half of my vocabulary has its origins here, and even a sailor would have been impressed with the level of creativity. I find it particularly stimulating when I need an extra boost during transfiguration homework). I had my charms book open, but was staring out the window, absentmindedly tracing one of my favorite insults with my middle finger. With a start, I remembered Simon's letter. I dug into my bag, eventually finding it wedged between an old chocolate frog wrapper and a crumpled up transfiguration essay. I smoothed out the parchment, and reread it without the interruption of an annoying Gryffindor. Most of the letter was Simon spewing off details about the United States, but he ended it with a depressing note, saying he still had not heard from my father. I sat back in my chair. It did not surprise me that my father still refused to contact my brother, but Simon still held onto some miniscule hope that my father would see the light. I went back to staring out the window.

I barely heard Roxie slip into the seat across from me, and I jumped when she spoke.

"Do you remember what you said the first night we became friends?" Uh. Maybe? I turned towards her. Roxie seemed a bit odd. Normally she was very bubbly and upbeat, but today she seemed quiet and pensive.

"Which part, specifically?"

"The part about James and Fred needing to be taught a lesson." I continued to stare blankly at her. She exhaled breathe through her nose, exasperated.

"I'm tired of James and Fred acting like they know best, like they are the smartest people."

"And…?" Roxie's eyes seemed to glitter.

"And I think it is time to teach them a lesson. Show them that they are not the smartest. Hopefully deflate their egos a little." Ego deflating? Now that was intriguing… (especially when it was Potter's ego).

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Oh, not just me. I am dragging you into this too. We are going to teach them a lesson where it will be most effective. You, Nashira darling, have just become partners with the newest and greatest prankster of this generation." My eyebrows shot up.

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YAY! I finally got this one done! This took waaaaaaaay longer than I hoped, but I promise to update quickly now (I am on break! Which means time to write! And sleep...). So. After a good 15,000 words, I have finally got the plot started. Uh. Tell me if it is too slow a beginning... What did you think of Kevin? Originally he was supposed to be completely evil, but than I created a back story for him, and he is starting to grow on me. Any thoughts on the other characters? Thank you so so so so much to all the people who have taken the time to review! I cannot describe just how much I appreciate it. Even if it is just a quick five second review telling me one thing to improve or that you liked, it will make my day (and it IS the holidays!). Once again, THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING 3


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: This wonderful world belongs to J.K. Rowling (what a surprise, I know!)

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When I was agreed to meet Roxie in the Room of Requirement the next day, I figured I would be met with a laughing Roxie making fun of her momentary blip of insanity. I did not expect fully drafted plans complete with a time, place, and prank. If anything, I thought we would proceed with a level of caution equal to that used when approaching an angry Blast-Ended Skrewt. Roxie seemed more of the mindset of speeding full force ahead with the same level of energy as a late Hogwarts Express.

While sitting in the fluffy arm chairs, Roxie relayed her "rough draft." By the time she had finished, she had completely annihilated any remaining pieces of my illusion of her being an innocent Hufflepuff. Not to mention, now I had even more proof to support my idea that the title "Prefect" was a mere facade masking the real troublemakers (look at Frank Longbotton. He goes gallivanting around the castle causing mischief like a good little Marauder, and yet, he is deemed an appropriate prefect. And take Paisley McLaggen for Exhibit B. To this day, I still do not understand how she was chosen as the Slytherin prefect. All she does is layer more makeup on her face and shout at people for disturbing her "beauty sleep"). But back to Roxie's new plan to destroy the Marauder's pranking monopoly.

"I want to see if we can finish the preparations for Tuesday at dinner." As I said, she was speeding full force ahead.

"Can we finish it all by then?" Roxie's plan was not incredibly difficult, but it would take some time.

"I hope so. Tuesday is the ideal day to do it, as everybody will be caught off guard, expecting the Marauder's prank the next day on Halloween. Plus, it will steal some of their thunder." Roxie giggled at the thought of the Marauders' faces. I was still a little hesitant though.

"Uh, Roxie? Are you sure that you want to do this? What will happen if they find out it was you? "

"Then they will be mad. I will survive. They cannot hold grudges with me. But this is not only about teaching them a lesson. I just want to try something that is outside of the image of a boring Hufflepuff." Roxie looked a little more rational when she was not taking about the Marauders' sudden demise, leaving me less apprehensive that they had driven her past the point of insanity. A hint of worry passed over her face. " Why? Are you backing out on me?"

"Well. Technically I was never asked. But no. I would never pass up the chance of watching the Hufflepuff Princess outprank her cocky captors. You had just better be sure we will not get caught, or else Kevin will murder me." I sent her the beginnings of a grin, which she returned with a toothy smile that had me wonder how she had been able to hide this mischievous part of her for six years. Then again, she was the daughter of the biggest joke shop owner in Europe, so I suppose none of us should really have been fooled by her secret side.

The first flickers of enthusiasm were beginning to bubble up inside of me as we started to plan. Roxie had a lot of the scheme already mapped out, but we went over it and changed some things. I had a couple suggestions to make it go smoother and deflect the blame. Our biggest problem was somehow making it so the prank would go off when we now where near the scene of the crime, but thankfully the Room of Requirement supplied several shelves full of helpful books that were conveniently tailored to our exact needs (I really love this room!).

By the time the sunlight faded from the room, we were mostly ready. The actual planning was a lot more complicated than I realized, and I had a (grudging) newfound respect for the Marauders. For our prank, we had decided to use a delaying potion mixed with a potion I brewed (with a long lost recipe found by Roxie somewhere in the library), which we would put into the food tomorrow at lunch and dinner. The potion I brewed would not take effect until Roxie said a short spell, at which point, the delaying potion would stop blocking the other potion, and anybody who had eaten the potion would begin to feel the effects. We had decided to spike the food tomorrow at dinner, as the teachers would be expecting it to be done the next day when the prank was set off. Plus, it meant that we could form alibis for ourselves (not that anybody would really suspect Roxie. Possibly me, but never the Perfect Princess Hufflepuff Prefect). It would also be unlikely that anyone would miss both lunch and dinner, so nobody would escape our lovely prank.

By the time we left for dinner, Roxie was bouncing off the walls (although it is entirely possible that this is due to the large amount of chocolate chip cookies she consumed an hour ago). We departed ways at the entrance to the Great Hall, making plans to meet in the kitchens tomorrow during our free period.

Once I entered the Great Hall, I steered my way over to the Slytherin table, where my friend Lianne Patterson was trying to devour her boyfriend's face (my eyes, they BURN). I slammed my bag down hard on the table, creating a satisfying thunk that made them jump apart. I eyed them sternly, and while Nathan Boot looked a tad cowed, Lianne just blew me a mocking kiss. I sighed.

"Must I give you the lecture again about permanently scarring the poor little first years?"

"Nope, we have gone over that one enough. Besides, the first years are not nearly as horrified as you are." Lianne made a fair point.

"You would be too if your two best friends for the last six years suddenly decided to start swapping spit in extremely public places." I retorted primly. Lianne grinned, and wrapped one of Nathan's arms around her shoulders. I groaned.

As much as I was glad they had finally gotten together (and stopped that weird ritual where they danced around their feelings for years), I was a little bothered at my new promotion to the position of permanent third wheel. This year I had spent an unprecedented amount of time alone in the library. It is also why I am so glad that I started talking to Roxie, as otherwise I would have been left to mutter to myself and sink slowly into madness.

As promised, Roxie and I met in the kitchens in our free period before lunch. I loved the kitchens. It was a warm, welcoming room that radiated happiness and comfort. Whenever I got too sick of the chilly Slytherin common room, I escaped here. The house elves were always happy and never held it against me that my father was an avid opponent to House Elf rights. By the time I tickled the pear and was blasted with the warm, aromatic air of the kitchens, Roxie was waiting for me at a small table, munching on a platter of cookies. I joined her, grabbed a cookie (was promptly smacked), and greeted the House Elf Tinny, who always made of point of welcoming me every time I came. Roxie had been surprised I knew where the kitchens were, but I explained about my nightly wonderings through the halls of Hogwarts. Sometime in third year I had stumbled across the kitchens, and ever since, I have been one of the house Elves' most frequent visitors (although my dad would probably ground me for eternity if he found out).

The house elves were already getting ready for dinner, with platters of food sprawled out on the four tables that mirrored the ones in the Great Hall. With an exaggerated form of eye communication, Roxie glanced from my bag to the tables. Last night, I had spent a couple hours in the Room of Requirement, brewing the two potions and mixing the exact proportions of them together. To finish it off, I had poured the combined potion into a spray bottle and topped it with a disillusionment charm. Now I pulled the bottle from my bag, casually setting it on the table. When none of the house elves seemed to be paying attention to me, I quietly levitated it into the air and began spraying the food. Next to me, Roxie was trying to appear normal, but was failing. She was gripping my arm (painfully hard) and kept gasping loudly each time the bottle slipped a bit. Finally, I flicked her with my finger, and she sheepishly smiled.

I was halfway through the Gryffindor table when a house elf approached, asking if we wanted anything else. I jumped, knocking over Roxie's cup of tea, and Roxie let out a shriek like gasp. The spray bottle almost plunged into the soup, but I caught it a moment before it made the dive. The house elf began apologizing profusely, which triggered Roxie to do the same. Two other elves began to mop of the broken cup and spilled tea, and I continued spiking the food in peace, letting out a sigh of relief only seen by Roxie. With one last spray, it was done. I used the Accio charm to summon the bottle back to me, and stored it in my bag.

With one last apology for our trouble, Roxie and I left the kitchen. The moment the portrait swung shut, grins burst across both of our faces, and an adrenaline induced laughter bubbled up from our throats. We collapsed against the wall, clutching our stomachs and no doubt looking like constipated monkeys.

"See? I told you it was fun." Roxie beamed at me.

"I just want to see their faces when it starts working." We both giggled like sugar high first years.

Eventually, we pealed ourselves off the floor, and headed to the Great hall in order to stuff ourselves with tampered food.

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~~~~~~~~~~Roxie Point of View~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I entered the Great Hall, I headed over to the Gryffindor table. I had not sought them out after our fight, and they were probably still miffed with the message I sent back to them through Frank. After the first part of the prank went so well, I was feeling charitable and a lot less irritated with them, and decided it could not hurt to attempt to make up with them.

I reached the table to find the lovely view of three teenage boys shoveling as much food as possible into their mouths.

"That's disgusting." The reaction was immediate. Frank nearly choked in his attempts to not look like a barbarian, James shot straight up, eyeing behind me suspiciously to see if I stashed a Slytherin somewhere, and Fred looked at me for a second before returning right back to his food, barely pausing in his Stuff-and-Swallow routine.

"Hey Roxs." Except when Fred said it, it sounded more like "'Ay Wroks" thanks to a particularly large chomp of chicken.

"No snake?" James was still skeptically looking around.

"Nope. I left her to slither back to her own habitat to swallow rats and little children whole." James looked to where I was motioning at Nashira laughing with Lianne.

"Good." James nodded decisively, before pulling me down to sit next to him.

I waved at Frank, who was still trying to recover from his choking fit. Fred hit him on the back, after graciously tearing himself away from his food in order to aid his half-dying friend.

"Hey Roxie." He rasped out, wildly reaching out to smack Fred, who was still loudly pounding on his back. James primly looked on. Yes. These are the attractive people who have the entire female population of Hogwarts (excluding family members and Nashira) under their charm.

"I cannot believe you have finally stopped ignoring us. It was dreadful here without you. Next time, do not abandon me with _them." _James sighed, pulling me into a hug, paying no heed to Frank's and Fred's protests.

"Next time, do not be a prig. And it was only a day." I freed myself from his grasp, and tousled his permanently mused hair (something he utterly despises). As expected, he wacked my hand away. I grinned. I hated fighting with them all, and I had missed them.

"Exactly!" He bumped his fist to his chest. "Fine. No more insulting your evil, little spawn of Satan friend, and you can stop your girlish hissy fits." I snorted at James' proposal, but was somewhat touched that he had even consented to compromising. He is renowned for his pigheaded stubbornness.

"Agreed." James nodded again, satisfied.

The next day I was full of nervous energy, and waiting until dinner was painful. Potions was the worst, as Nashira and I kept on exchanging looks and anxiously giggling. We nearly destroyed the potion several times, and Professor Wilson shot us several odd looks throughout the class, prompting us to break out in hysterical laughter again. We spent the rest of the time before dinner in the library, abandoning our secluded table for one in plain view of the librarian, Madame White. We made sure to ask for her help locating a book, so she could support our alibi if something went seriously wrong.

Finally, dinner came, and the end our miserable waiting period approached. We entered the Great Hall and made straight for the Hufflepuff table, shooting each other expressions that replicated the face used by mischievous four year olds stealing candy. My stomach was clench as I twirled by food on my plate, wishing so many people were not late to dinner. We had decided to wait until dinner was a bit more than halfway done.

At long last, Nashira gave me the signal, and I muttered the spell under my breath. Nothing happened for a few seconds, as the potions began reacting. It was a third year Ravenclaw that noticed something first. She shouted as her hands started swelling, attracting the attention of the entire students and Faculty. Soon after that, a fifth year Hufflepuff gave a shout of surprise. It did not take long for the rest of the student population to join in, as one by one, everyone noticed their hands growing. The teachers watched in confusion.

After that, everything went fast. People began realizing that it was not just their hands swelling, but their entire bodies. Buttons could be heard popping off and bouncing on the floor as every student bubbled out into huge, round balls. We looked like perfect spheres except for the little arms, feet, and heads poking out. And then the fun started. Just like Uncle Harry told us his Aunt Marge did in his third year, everyone began slowly lifting off the ground, rising like large, human balloons. An inflated Nashira slowly waved her hand at me, as she floated to the ceiling where a bunch of balloon students already hovered.

Everyone was bumping into each other and bouncing off walls, other students, and the ceiling. I saw James and Fred float by me, looking flabbergasted. I giggled slightly. Some of the screams had turned to laughter now, and the teachers had finally woken from their surprise at seeing their students become balloons. They jumped into action, trying to find a spell that would change us back.

I exchanged glances with Nashira. The potion should be running out by now, so we should start dropping on our own soon. Right on cue, some of the heavier upperclassmen began dropping and deflating, myself and Nashira included. We bumped younger students out of the way as we slowly drifted down. By the time we hit the floor, looking completely normal again, some of the younger students were beginning to descend too. Students landed in topples all over the floor, a bit disorientated at finding their bodies with normal proportions.

Headmistress McGonagall was calling for attention. I saw Professor Newark angrily approach James, Fred, and Frank, who were shaking their heads in surprise. After several minutes, he left, apparently believing their story of innocence for once (It was probably their dumbfounded expressions. I do not think I have ever seen them that thrown off).

Everything blurred by after that. The Headmistress made an announcement, asking students to report any information on the culprit, people kept on approaching the Marauders, who would just shrug in confusion, and everybody else began gossiping about the prank and perpetrator. Soon we were all instructed to head to our common rooms. I said goodnight to Nashira, who winked at me.

By breakfast the next day, I was completely satisfied that Nashira and I had successfully confused the entire Hogwarts population. In my door, the common room, and the hallways, everybody was talking about the prank that was _not_ committed by the Marauders. Listening to everybody unknowingly talk of me made me feel like I was pretending to be a secret agent. It was like having a secret identity. A couple people approached me to ask if I had any speculations on the perpetrator, which nearly made me collapse into giddy laughter.

When I walked into the Great Hall, I glanced over to the Slytherin table where Nashira sat. She raised her glass of pumpkin juice at me in a mock toast, sending me a content smile. I sent her a secretive half smile back, before venturing over to the Gryffindor table, where the smiles were decidedly not content.

Fred appeared to be mumbling under his breath, shooting dark glares at anybody foolish enough to ask him if they had any clue of the person's identity. When I snagged a seat next to him, he started to snap with anger, before deflating when he realized it was me.

"Hey Roxs." He sounded like a kicked puppy.

I surveyed him. He mostly just looked grumpy.

"Have you come to ask if we knew anything about the tosspots that did that amateur prank yesterday too?" He dares call my lovely prank amateur? Luckily he seemed to take my offended expression as a signal that I was not a prying busybody.

"No matter, mate." James responded, looking a bit maniacal. "Some little prank by an obvious novice could never taint our solidly built reputation. Besides, our prank tonight will make them all forget anyone dared to defy our reign."

"Your reign?" I snorted. Frank gave me a weird look. "What? That was a little bit dramatic. I thought you were the poster faces for mischief. Shouldn't you be happy that someone else has been converted to your weird pranking cult? " James looked at me knowledgeably.

"You have been spending too much time with the snarky Slytherin. And we wholeheartedly support creating trouble, but this was not just a prank. It was a declaration of war!" I nearly choked on my cereal.

"Are you sure it is not just someone wanting to try making a prank?" Frank gave me another unnerving look, surveying me with his piercing eyes. I nervously fiddled with my spoon. He could not know, we were too careful.

"Roxie, Roxie, so naïve." Fred shook his head sadly. I shot him a glare (suspiciously similar to Nashira's. James might be right. I probably _am_ spending too much time with her).

Today was one of those fun days where the teachers expect their students to be lazy. Halloween has always been my favorite holiday to celebrate at Hogwarts, probably because everyone gets really excited over it. The hallways were decorated with the typical floating pumpkins, the suits of armors were casually strolling past students, and Peeves was peppering dungbombs and yelling seasonal profanities.

After James' warning this morning, I was prepared for an entertaining evening. They did not disappoint. All throughout the day, different classrooms were plunged into utter darkness, and students emerged with variously shaped horns, tails, and assorted mutated body parts. Nashira got a particularly lovely set of devil's horns that went rather well with her bright red clown nose (also courtesy of the Marauders). She posed a very intimidating picture. Well, after we finished laughing at her and noticed her expression full of blood lust. I spent the rest of the night having a party in the Hufflepuff common room, eating candy and joking with the Fat Friar.

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Nashira Point of View~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner I finally found time to go up to the Hospital wing to remove my oh-so-beautiful nose and horns. Unsurprisingly, it was bursting with students, most of them younger. The older students were generally able to transfigure their newly acquired features back to their original ones, but I did not trust myself to use a transfiguration on my face. All of my "friends" thought it would be rude to "damage the Marauders' wonderful artwork," and refused to help me. Apparently I looked funny (ha ha sarcastic laugh). I had to suck up my heavily bruised pride and dragged myself to the Hospital Wing.

Where, of course, the first person I had to meet was Potter. He looked at me for a good five seconds before grinning widely and calling to Weasley, who exploded in laughter. Lovely.

"Need some help Alden?" Help? From Potter? Why yes, I would love to accept help from the son of Satan whose fault it is that I looked like a mutant demon clown. They really knew how to inspire trust.

"No, I am quite content with keep the rest of my features normal. And willingly allowing you to hex my face would end solely in disaster."

"No need to pull out the snark. Madame Brown recruited us to help her. Something about punishment for causing her the extra work. We come in peace." Oops, was my guffaw of derision offend you?

"I'll wait for the actual healer, thanks for the concern." I finished the sentence with a bright, entirely fake, smile.

"Line's over there. Frankly, I am glad you refused. I am not sure I could have resisted the temptation. I think some elephant ears would have gone great with the entire combination."

"Not really my style. I prefer red, rubber spheres obnoxiously glued to face." My voice turned flat. "Now why are you talking to me. It is scary, and quite frankly, worries me greatly." James sighed dramatically.

"I do not know what I have done to deserve so little trust. First the teachers, now you." I rubbed my devil's horns in sarcastic puzzlement. "My dear, wonderful cousin who I love greatly believes for some reason that you are not an evil, manipulative monster. I am not sure if I trust that decision, but I am told I have to respect it. Apparently that means not hexing you. Excessively. A couple spells here and there, that's all." I stared hard at him for a moment, before shaking my head in exasperation. I do not know how Roxie dealt with them for the last sixteen years. It has been two minutes, and half of my sanity has already dribbled out of my head.

"Ok Potter." I have very little faith in his ability to resist the temptation of hexing me. I left him to help some giggling fourth years get rid of some gills, and went to wait for Madame Brown to help me.

Before I left the Hospital wing (all features normal), I sent a quick spell towards Potter, gifting him with some rather adorable bunny ears. After all, it was only Potter's face.

I ducked through I couple hidden passages that have not been used for years by anybody except for me. Originally, I was going to go back to the common room, where a party was probably taking place. Halfway there, I changed direction, instead deciding to go to the Astronomy tower.

No teacher was cruel enough to assign astronomy homework on Halloween, so I was the only person there. It was already dark out, and there was a cool breeze that wove straight through my clothes, causing goosebumps to break out. I loved coming up here. It was always calm and peaceful, and it was my one place to think. I loved being high up and feeling the wind, it reminded me of flying.

Tomorrow was a full moon, and the nearly complete orb gave off a pale light that made the stars look less bright. I leaned against the wall and subconsciously rubbed my left shoulder. It always got sore around the time of a full moon, although the healers said it might dull with age. I sat there for a good hour, enjoying being alone and having nothing demanding my attention. I let my thoughts drift, going over menial details and old events and people I had not thought about in years.

I wondered what Simon was doing. I wished he would write more, I wanted to hear more about the United States. From there my thoughts turned to the giant crack that was currently splintering my family. I brooded over Simon's relationship with my dad. I doubted they would make up anytime soon. My dad could be very stubborn and single minded, although I think my mum is about fed up with him. She does not mention it in her letters, but I am pretty sure they have been fighting a lot recently.

I sighed, deciding to banish all negative thoughts from my mind for the moment. Eventually I managed to tear myself away from the dark tower (how very Slytherin of me) and made my way back to the common room, ducking into a secret passage behind a portrait on the fourth floor once to avoid Peeves.

Most of my roommates were already in our dorm when I arrived. Lianne looked up when I bounced onto my bed, evicting a 'hmph' of annoyance from Paisley McLaggen.

"You are lucky you came back before curfew, or I would have reported you to Newark." Paisley and I do not get along. Unfortunately, she is a Prefect too, and enjoys lording her power over us mere mortals.

"How very mature of you McLaggen, with all the three-year old tattling." Lianne drawled out from her position sprawled out on her bed. She was analyzing her neon green nails, looking for any flaw (Lianne is a huge perfectionist). Paisley ignored her, and Lianne turned towards me.

"Have a nice break?"

"Yup." Lianne is accustomed to my sporadic breaks away from humanity. "Have a nice time with Nathan?"

"Yup." Paisley glared at us (I have suspected for a long time that she secretly has a crush on Nathan, but Lianne tells me I am crazy). I decided against provoking the rabid bear (McLaggen), and decided that it would be wiser tonight to just go to sleep. Quietly I slipped into the bathroom and changed, brushed my teeth, and then collapsed into bed.

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I borrowed the idea of the human balloon from J.K. Rowling. Ok, so the actual prank probably was not the most creative, but it was the first thing that popped into my mind, and it stuck. I know I spent too much time describing the actual prank, but I felt it was necessary as it was their first one. The following ones will be (hopefully) more interesting and less wordy. The beginning of this was hard for me to write, and I highly suspect that the beginning with cause most people to just vaguely skim through. However, the end was very enjoyable to write :) Thank you so much for reviewing! (You all are wonderful, wonderful people 3)


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the creator and owner of this most beautiful (and sadly fictional) world.

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~Roxie's Point of View~

"He's called the _what_?" Matthew Davies seemed pleased that he knew more than I did.

"The Dark Shadow, because nobody has seen him at all. His pranks are already in place long before anybody realizes what is happening and thinks to look for him."

"You have got to be kidding me." The Dark Shadow. All of my hard work coming up with pranks only to be labeled as The Dark Shadow. It sounded like a cliché character in a child's horror story. "How do you even know he's a guy?"

"It's a guy thing. It's obvious that whoever this person is, he just wants to dethrone the Marauders, a bit like spitting in their faces. Only an egoistic guy of the same caliber as the Marauders would sink to such a petty level. It's all a bit stupid if you ask me." If Matthew was trying to appear mature, as I suspect he was, it fell flat, instead giving him the impression of a petulant toddler. Another twang of irritation shot through me, a sentiment that was growing increasingly dull due to overuse. It seemed every other conversation of ours ended with Matthew lecturing to me about why the Marauders were not nearly as perfect as everybody believed. After knowing them all my life, I can support that testament with numerous examples, but it irked me. Only I was allowed to insult my family.

"If you say so." Matthew continued speaking, not realizing I had tuned him out.

Nashira and I had been fairly busy over the past two weeks. She tweaked a healing potion (with a fair amount of experimentation) so that caused all the girls to grow sparkly scales. Last week, I had charmed a door way so that it would only allow people to pass if they supplied some form of entertainment (this usually came in the shape of badly tuned singing or eye scarring dancing. However, one student got particularly creative with his miming abilities). We were working on creating some of our own spells and potions, but given the lack of time for experimentation, we had mostly been slightly changing magic that already existed. Nashira's father owns an apothecary, so she has been requesting supplies from home to aid us in our research.

Funnily enough, the Marauder's are not quite as entranced by the "Dark Shadow" (…) as the rest of Hogwarts. It has driven them a bit crazy, actually, and now they are peppering pranks over the rest of population in order to be not outdone, whilst simultaneously going on a witch-hunt rampage in order to discover their competitor (this involves them staring scarily at first years, hoping they will crack. Their success is rather limited, although at least three have broken down in tears).

Matthew Davies continued droning on about the …Dark Shadow, listing off possible suspects, the mixed reactions of the Hogwarts population (there was a direct correlation between the amount of support for the Dark Shadow and the level of Marauder obsession), and the probability of a crime occurring in the next several days (he claimed it was extremely high. To my mild amusement, he was wrong. Nashira refused to help with any pranks when the Gryffindor-Slytherin match this weekend.) Although I was secretly amused that Matthew was rattling facts off to me about myself, I was enjoying it a little. I could not risk asking the Marauders (for fear of being branded a traitor for my interest, plus I suspected that Frank was a little suspicious of me).

"So Roxie, what do you think?" Caught. In a desperate attempt to act like I had been paying attention to his ramblings, I gave him a noncommittal nod.

"Yeah, yeah sure. I totally agree." In hindsight, I should have recognized his expression and the way he was fiddling with his quill and known not to blindly agree.

"Great! So I'll meet you in the Great Hall at about eleven?" So that's what he wanted….

"Oh. Uh. I …guess?" Matthew responded to my awkward reply with a smile that revealed his blinding white teeth (unnatural to the point of creepiness).

"Great. I wasn't sure if you'd want to go to Hogsmeade with me." His happy expression sparked a bit of guilt in me, as I really did not want to go to on a date with him. Matthew's head was a bit too large (and the amount of arrogant people I have in my life has far exceeded a healthy level *cough James Fred cough cough*). Plus, I really did not want to deal with the drama that our date would instigate with James and Fred. Ah well, it's one date, I'll survive.

With an ominous feeling of foreboding bubbling up in my stomach, I left the charms classroom, my cheeks flushing when I met Matthew's eyes. I ran into Nashira in the Entrance Hallway. She had just come from transfiguration, but looked more like she had just finished a fight with a grumpy bear. She perked up a bit when I waved at her, and shoved her way past the few stragglers heading into the Great Hall for lunch.

"Survived transfiguration I see."

"Barely. Newark assigned us two feet of parchment on the different types of human transformations, due Thursday. And I have quidditch practice every night. I swear, the universe is conspiring for my demise."

"Likely." I pushed open the doors. "Anyway, after the matc-"

I trailed off in utter befuddlement as I stared at the scene in the Great Hall. Next to me, Nashira's mouth dropped open. Food was flying everywhere, apparently having gained a life of its own with the help of recently personified silverware. Rolls snuck up on terrified students, pelting them on the head multiple times, mashed potatoes catapulted itself off of spoons, and pieces of chicken decorated the hair of many a student. Spinning plates whizzed through the air, shooting off food in all directions. In the middle of the chaos stood Fred and James directing the anarchy with gleeful smiles. A Treacle Tart landed in the middle of Nashira's forehead.

I burst out laughing at her disgruntled expression. My amusement did not last long, as a pot of warm broccoli soup was immediately dumped on my head, effectively silencing my laughter. Some students were cowering under the table, while others had joined in the battle, and were using the opportunity to settle old grudges and embarrass friends. I wiped some of the soup out of my eyes.

The teachers' looks ranged from murderous to vaguely amused (I could have sworn I saw Hagrid launch a blueberry muffin in Newark's direction). Most of the Gryffindors were cheering loudly, and even the Slytherins dared to catapult the closest food, mostly aiming at the Gryffindors, and then pretending they had not sunk to the level of participating in a Marauder's prank.

A string of spaghetti flew past me, hitting Nashira in the shoulder this time. I could have sworn I saw James wink at me, while Nashira cursed them under her breath.

Suddenly, with an eerie synchronized motion, the food dropped mid flight. All of the attention turned back towards Fred, who was holding his wand to his mouth as a microphone.

"Students and teachers of Hogwarts." Here he shot an ironically respectful nod to the teachers. "I am sure you have all heard by now of our new little friend." A foreboding feeling snaked its way into my stomach. "Someone has seen fit to challenge us, but the Marauders will not be easily overcome, especially by someone called the Dark Shadow." Here he let out a delicate snort. "The Marauders do not cower from challengers, in fact, we welcome them. On behalf of the Marauders, we invite you, Dark Shadow, to try. Just try to take us on. The Marauders have never lost before, and we have no intention of starting now. So from this moment on, with all of you as our witnesses, it's war." With a solemn look over the student population, Fred finished his melodramatic speech. "Let the pranking commence."

I stood agape in place, mouth hanging open in a comically cartoon like style. Nashira amusedly glanced at my expression, and I noticed the mischievous tilt to her smirk, and received my third pang of worry of the day.

"So Commander, troops ready for battle?"

"They –They –they actually did it. I thought they were joking about declaring war. No. They did it. They did it in front of the whole school. Oh Merlin, the entire school knows. The whole, entire school knows and will now be looking for the Dark Shadow or whatever that stupid name is they are calling us. Why? I just wanted to try pranking someone, not compete with them. Why is their ego so _stupid_ big? Dear Merlin. I have just entered a pranking war with my brother, disguised as a ghost from a children's story, without his knowledge, and oh my god he is going to kill me. I cannot do this. I cannot do this. This is impossible. We have to stop. Yes! We'll stop. It'ill all be fine, they will never know, and the Dark Shadow will slink into the farthest depths of a person's mind." I continued babbling on, while Nashira calmly waited for me to stop (and dare to take a breathe).

"Calm down, it'll be fine." Why is it that "it'll be fine" is remarkably not reassuring?

"Ha!"

"We can pretend this never happened if you want. The Dark Shadow was fun while it lasted, but it does not have to be something permanent." Nashira looked a bit wistful. "It's your choice." I shook my head in a vain attempt to clear it.

"I really don't know what I want right now. I just want everyone to stop being so stupid all the time."

"We both know that's impossible."

"Unfortunately."

"Just think about what you want to do, and tell me. We weren't planning on doing anything until after the quidditch match, so we have time. Think it over."

I nodded, barely listening. People were all speaking over each other, gossiping over what just happened, and Newark was yelling at Fred and James, while Frank sat resignedly at the Gryffindor table waiting for them.

A series of emotions churned inside of me all day, ranging from exhilaration to extreme guilt about the fact that I was lying to my friends. Everything built up until 5 o'clock, when I felt like my head was in danger of disintegration from the strain of repeating the same arguments over and over. At that point, I decided that even if I was unable to escape the mental prison I created for myself, I was able to leave my voluntary confinement to my dorm and take a walk.

The sun was dropping slowly towards the horizon, elongating my shadow, and casting a golden everywhere that should have been beautiful, but only made me irrationally sad. I stopped by the edge of the lake, picking up a couple stones and attempting to skip them, not even caring that they were round, too heavy, and immediately made a loud thunk when it first touched the water. I felt inexplicably melancholy. The moment felt endless, but I got an underlying sense that life was moving much too fast for me to grab a hold on anything. In another year I would graduate, and people were already pressuring me about that hazy blob called the future. I just wanted everything to stop for a minute, so I could catch my breath.

Everything seemed a bit pointless. James' and Fred's competition seemed silly now. Who would care about it in five, ten years? It seemed so juvenile. There were so many problems out there much bigger than my own, but I could not help wallowing a bit in the unfair position James and Fred had unknowingly put me in. I threw another stone into the lake, with more force than necessary, causing me to wince a bit when it made a spookily loud splash in the water.

"You all right?" I jumped, nearly tumbling into the water. A hand grasped my shoulder, steadying me. I whipped around to find the grinning face of Frank.

"Frank! What? When?" I blushed, trying to ignore his hand still gripping my shoulder.

"I was just taking a bit of a walk when I saw you down here. You looked like you could use a bit of company."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. My thoughts are just accelerating out of control right now." When I glanced back at his hand again, he quickly pulled it away, his ears turning a bit pink.

"Well, whatever happens, you know we all love you." My heart jumped at his words, and I grinned a bit wider as he his flush became more noticeable. "Shut up," he grumbled embarrassedly.

"Awww, it was cute."

"Yeah, whatever. Stop trying to give the giant squid a concussion and come back to the castle." I laughed and followed him back inside.

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Nashira Point of View

Three days, four practices, and a predicated seventeen injuries before the Quidditch game against Gryffindor. It had been decided that the match would be Friday afternoon, so we would could go to Hogsmeade Saturday, and I was brimming with nerves (not that I would ever, EVER admit it). Kevin had been pushing us harder than I could ever remember, and I was dead miserable. I had never felt so pressured or so much dread coming up to a match. I was not excited in the least, and just wished it was over.

I was feeling especially tense today. I had another nightmare last night, which always left me jumpy, and then I had woken up late. Normally I liked to be the first one into the bathroom, to avoid the excessive preening of all the other teenage girls in my dorm. Today I had to suffer through a solid half hour of obnoxious gossiping while I waited for the bathroom to clear out. Naturally, Paisley McLaggen was the leader.

"Did you hear about Roxanne Weasley?" She twittered to two of her minions. "She's going with Matthew Davies to Hogsmeade. Why he would ever want to go with that bint I don't know, but apparently she was practically begging for the date. Shameful." She shook her head mockingly sad. I interrupted her one-act drama show with a deliciously annoying drawl.

"Tame down the jealousy McLaggen. You're smothering me with your blatant envy." She glared at me (brightening my morning slightly).

"Aw, standing up for your new friend, are we? How sweet. Why are you even still here? I thought you liked to, ahem, prettify yourself in solitude." She made a delicate sound of disgust. "Merlin, you're such a prude." I rolled my eyes. She had been accusing me of that all year, after I decided parading around for hours in my bra was a little over the top. A new voice cut in.

"A prude's better than something else I could mention." Lianne gave Paisley a pointed look. I grinned, turning my attention from the diva queen in the middle of the room.

"Finally detached yourself from your boyfriend's face?"

"For now. Poor Nathan. He needed to catch his breath. And I figured you would be getting lonely by now, but it appears you have managed to keep yourself entertained. You and Weasley huh?"

"So it would seem. You would like her."

"I trust your judgment." She looked a bit hesitant. "I really am sorry I have barely seen you this year. I guess I have just been absorbed in other things."

"Meaning your newfound love. It's alright Li, it's actually shaping up to be an interesting year." She grinned.

"That I can imagine. Spending lots of time with _your_ love? I hear Potter's finally gotten over that bint Smith." I threw a pillow at her.

Once the Paisley finally let the bathroom, caked in an impressive amount of makeup and purposely later than normal, I changed, brushed my teeth, and thought about brushing my hair (naturally deciding it was a lost cause and tying it up instead).

Lianne and I walked down to the Great Hall for what seemed like the first time in ages. It was nice. I had barely seen her at all, and we had a lot to catch up on.

Halfway through breakfast, an owl delivered me a letter from my cousin, while one gave Lianne her subscription to the Daily Prophet. I was about to open my letter, when I noticed the peculiar expression on Lianne's face. I sighed.

"What now?" She handed me the paper apologetically, and I glanced at the title, stomach sinking.

WEREWOLF RIGHTS BILL CONTROVERSY AT MINISTRY

~By Lloyd Bones~

As I basically could guess everything that would appear in the story, I decided to just skim the article and shorten the suffering. The first phrase that popped out at me was "long-time anti-werewolf rights leader Javier Alden initiates new campaign." It then led into a detailed description of the newest stalemate, dictating how he was battling with notable people like "S.P.E.W. leader Hermione Granger," "Teddy Lupin, son of the werewolf Remus Lupin (Postmortem recipient of the Medal of Honor)," and "Harry Potter, Head Auror and eminent equal rights supporter." The article cited several quotes, including one from Professor Lupin (making me wish I did not have to face him in class today). Naturally, all the quotes from my father were how werewolves were "dangerous," "disgusting," and the like.

By the time I had finished the article, my dark mood once again had its claws dug into me. I had hoped my dad had finally given up, but I should have known better. I inherited my stubbornness from him. Nevertheless, each time I saw a new article depicting his stupidity, it felt like a punch to my gut. I wish he would just stop.

"Mind if I keep this?"

"'Course not. I'm guessing you're heading up early then?" She shot me a sympathetic look.

"Yep." I abandoned my muffin, and packed up my things, already feeling some of the stares from other students who had read the article. Professor Lupin was one of the most popular teachers, so for a few weeks after one of the werewolf articles came out, my friend list generally diminished to a depressingly small number of names.

Just to utterly cement this as the worst day possible this year, I ran straight into Potter on my way out of the entrance hall, successfully knocking my stuff all over the floor.

"Sorry," I muttered. Potter was too busy looking at the Front page of the Daily Prophet. He finally seemed to remember I was there, and gave me a slight frown. Suddenly, I was irrepressibly angry. It was not my fault my dad was stupid. Did anyone care to ask my opinion? No. Instead they just silently condemn me. With a full-fledged glare of hatred, I yanked the newspaper out of his hands.

"Something you wish to say?" I practically spat at him. He looked at me, surprised. Suddenly, it was too much. I whirled around, before the hot tears I could feel building up exploded.

I spent the last minutes before class hiding on the third floor, shuffling into class with my head down at the last moment, avoiding eye contact with everybody (specifically Potter and Professor Lupin). For once, Kevin and Lianne were not immersed in each other, but staring at me worriedly. I turned to the window.

I did not even realize that Professor Lupin was not here today until a cool voice cut through the student's chatter.

"My name is Ms. Lawley, and I will be filling in for Professor Lupin today while he takes care of some business." I glanced up to see a tall, middle aged woman with a severely tight ponytail and a harsh angle to her cheekbones. "He asked me to pair you up so you can practice mild defense spells on each other. Take note that if I see any other spells than the ones on the list, I have strict instructions to write down the names of the students." I sighed. I had been hoping for a theoretical lesson so I could practice fading into the wall. Ms. Lawley surveyed her parchment, and started pairing together students.

"Longbottom and Creevy."

"Boot, Finnigan."

"McLaggen and Patterson."

"Potter, Alden." I sighed. Somehow, as soon as she said his name, I knew that I would be Potter's partner.

After she had finished reading off the list, she dismissed us into groups. I dragged myself over to Potter, feeling like I was approaching my doom. He looked just as enthusiastic.

"Potter."

"Alden."

"Let's get started then." I spoke curtly, wishing I had just skived today. It would be worth getting detention. We faced each other, and Potter sent the first jinx. I flinched, and it took all of my willpower to not instinctively block the spell. He looked just as pained when it was my turn (although I did perhaps take too much enjoyment in flinging spells his way).

The only good thing about having Potter as a partner was that he was actually rather brilliant at DADA, which meant we plowed through the list of jinxes quickly (although it also meant frequent breaks to rustle his hair and wink at the pair of Gryffindor girls practicing next to us). By the time we had already finished with the list of assigned jinxes, most people were only half-done. Lianne and Paisley were still on the first several spells, as neither of them was allowing the other to hex them properly. I watched them for a couple minutes, ignoring Potter (mistake).

From the corner of my eye, I saw Potter's face suddenly turn mischievous. With an impish grin, he sent a jelly jinx curse hurtling at me. Within seconds, I had whirled around and thrown up a shield. Potter stumbled a bit at the impact, and his startled face almost made me smile (at least, until Ms. Lawley appeared behind me).

"Miss Alden, is it?" I nodded impassively. "Yes, I thought so. I knew your father." The way she said "knew" implied some other relationship, such as, oh, I dunno, intense hatred? Potter raised his eyebrow. I sighed again. This day really was turning out terrible, and now I got to meet with one of my father's hate club members (an officer, judging from the fiery dislike in her eyes).

"Did you hear my instructions that this was meant to a practice session?" I nodded woodenly at her, waiting for her to pounce. "So why are you blocking your partner's spells? That would be counterintuitive, don't you think?" I didn't respond this time. "This is a warning, next time I am leaving a note for your teacher. Just stick to the actual lesson." Right. Since the Jelly Legs Jinx was really part of the lesson, I thought sardonically. It would be ridiculous to expect that she would call out perfect golden boy Potter.

Outwardly I kept my face calm. After years of dealing with this type of person, I knew that not-reacting was the best way of dealing. It annoyed them too, and Ms. Lawley was no different. She appeared a bit aggravated at my emotionless expression.

"Miss Alden?" Her voice was tinged with severity.

"Of course Ms. Lawley." I responded with a highly specific mixture of boredom and sweetness. She eyed me suspiciously, and looked about to say something else, before Potter spoke up.

"We actually finished running through the jinxes already."

"And yet, you were willing to keep on practicing them."

"Actually, I wasn't-"

"It's alright , I think we have everything sorted out. Now get back to practicing you two." Potter looked a bit sour at being interrupted, and I smirked. He turned back towards me after she left.

"You could say thank you." I looked at him genuinely surprised.

"For what?"

"For standing up for you." I stared at him for a beat incredulously. Then I started to laugh.

"You tried to hex me." He shrugged.

"Yeah, but after that."

"How very gallant of you Potter. I'm touched, truly. Is this your common behavior towards your enemies?" He shrugged again.

"I just didn't want you to have an excuse for when we beat you on Friday."

"Again, you tried to hex me."

"Eh, what can I say? It's war." I froze, for a seconding thinking he meant with the whole "Dark Shadow" declaration of war. Then, with a bit more glee than necessary, I sent a particularly strong impedimenta jinx racing towards him. All in all, Defense could have ended worse.

One of the unforeseen benefits of running into my father's hate-club leader Ms. Lawley was I had snapped out of my pool of self-pity. People could believe what they want, I would not let them get to me. With a head held high and a straightened back, I entered the Great Hall for lunch, strolling over to the Slytherin table, ignoring some of the less-subtle stares. Even the ripples of "deatheater," "father," and "dark magic," throughout the hall did not jeopardize my carefully crafted indifference.

My apathy was only shaken slightly when Roxie approached my table, sliding into the seat across from mine. My stomach rolled in anxiety. Even though she knew from the beginning who my family was, it usually took something like this news article to really allow the concept to sink in. It surprised me just how bleak my vision of Hogwarts was without Roxie. She instantly proved my worries to be completely unfounded by giving me a small smile.

"You alright? I read the article." I could see a flicker of worry in her eyes.

"I'm fine now." I cleared me throat. "I want you to know, I don't actually agree with him. They're people too, and should be treated equally." She nodded solemnly.

"I never doubted you." Her faith in me set free the last of my nerves, and I breathed a soft sigh of relief, smiling the first true smile since I had seen the article.

Two and a half days, three practices, and four mental breaks downs until the match, and any thoughts of smiles or happiness seemed like the farthest away over-exaggerated myth. In other words, I once again was subjected to quidditch practice.

It was a long practice, full of stress, yelling, and the continuous repetition of plays for the hundredth thousand time. Kevin only ended the practice when Scorpius Malfoy was thrown off of his broom, and appeared to be unable to stand properly. I volunteered to take him up to the hospital wing, while everyone else scattered in order to avoid anymore of Kevin's wrath.

I grew up with Scorpius. He was like a cute, very blonde, younger cousin. I was beyond furious at Kevin for pushing him too hard today. He barely spoke as I walked to the hospital wing with him floating besides me. His teeth were gritted in pain, and I felt a streak of sympathy run through my veins. The hospital matron sighed disapprovingly as we entered the room, before bustling towards us and shooing me out.

Two days, 206 exhausted bones, and an unhealthy amount of pent up emotions breaking loose until the match, and I was going insane. My only thoughts were about the long list of quidditch statistics, our longer list of quidditch plays, the probability of good quidditch weather conditions on Friday, and food (although only food that would not hinder my ability to play quidditch).

One day, 15 rude nicknames (courtesy of the Gryffindors), and one growingly desperate captain later: My mind is made of mush. My limbs are made of gelatin. I think my hands have gone numb.

2 hours until the match.

1 hour.

_Help._

3o minutes.

Ten.

Five.

I breathed, closed my eyes, and banished my nerves. When I finally opened my eyes, I was ready. I could feel the adrenaline pulsing in my veins, and I couldn't wait to smash Potter's team. With a grin, I slapped Scorpius on the shoulder, who was looking a bit green.

"No worries mate. We can do this." He eyed my skeptically, before doing his best to mimic my expression (which was rather adorable, and put a serious dent in my armor of murderous emotions built specifically for Potter. Scorpius was just too cute). Kevin called us over to the rest of the team members, already dressed in their uniforms of green and silver. He kept his speech short and to the point.

"Pulverize them," He commanded menacingly. We shouted in assent, before bursting out of the changing rooms into the packed stadium. The sounded washed over us in a rush, pumping even more energy into my system.

Potter and Kevin had their usual macho stare down, before being forced to try to "peaceably" break each other's hand with their shake. Everything seemed to whiz by, and I was only disrupted from my heightened sensitivity by the whistle.

And with a rush, it began.

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/

Hello again! Yes, I am alive and (relatively) sane. I have not updated this story in a while, mostly because I was going through a writer mental break down, and was completely convinced that I had ruined the story by writing in both Roxanne's and Nashira's point of view (basically that I was not creating them adequately enough). I also appeared to have slightly exaggerated the amount of grammatical errors I thought I had (mainly, I was positive there was some huge mistake in every other sentence. Although I did realize that apparently I had spelled the title wrong, which was rather embarrassing). But…now I'm back! And fully determined to finish this story! Thank you to any readers who have stuck with this, and to all the new readers, I hope you like it!

Not the most exciting chapter, but lots of events will be going on in the next one!

Please review!

**Lily's Sidekick****- **Thanks for the advice about the contractions! I completely did not realize I was not using them, and now I am working to try and make their speech seem more natural. Your review was extremely wonderful and helpful!


	6. Chapter 6

…FINE. It's not mine. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/

~Roxanne Point of View~

For the first time in my entire schooling career, I was secretly excited for the quidditch match. Normally family bonds and Hufflepuff pride cajoled me into attending them, but it was a formality. My brain generally was floating off in the distance, far, far away from anything on a broomstick. However, the I-will-crush-them-mercilessly attitude from both James and Nashira was hot-blooded and stirring enough to convince me that it would be an interesting match, if just for the drama.

McGonagall did not schedule any afternoon classes in celebration of the coming match, so I wandered with Kelly and Sam down to the pitch early, in an extremely cheerful mood. I left Nashira and the Marauders at their prospective tables in the Great Hall, each attempting to shove down an entire spoonful of food with varying degrees of success.

James was in his Motivational Captain role, while Fred was creating comic relief with ridiculous food puns. Frank appeared to be mediating. Sam suggested he was praying.

Nashira was muttering darkly to herself and stabbing carrots with deadly accuracy. She eyed my red scarf with mock disdain, but gave a wide smile to Sam, who wore a green barrette. I shrugged. Sam had decided she quite liked Nashira and her sarcasm, and was now in full support of Slytherin winning. I didn't particularly care about the outcome, other than the fact that if Gryffindor lost, I would have to deal with three sulking boys. If they lost while I was decked out in green, they would be acting sulky and betrayed.

In the stands, I surveyed the pitch. It was nearly full, with most of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw attending too. My cousin, Rose, was in charge of commentating. McGonagall put her in charge as much as possible because she was one of the few people who were knowledgeable enough about quidditch, but unlikely to be blatantly biased. She just made little comments that, by the time people decoded her meaning, were soon forgotten due to the next piece of action.

The two teams emerged from the changing rooms at the same time, eliciting loud cheers and booing from both stands.

James and Kevin Goyle tried to politely rip each other's hand off, and Teddy blew the whistle to mark the start of the match.

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/

~Nashira Point of View~

As soon as I rose into the air, all of my nerves disappeared. I sent a smirk in the general direction of the Gryffindors, and then flew up to my position by the three rings. Keeper was the perfect position for me, because it let me observe the game most of the time, and I could just enjoy the feeling of drifting.

Unfortunately, I had less time to drift then I would have liked. Apparently Potter got giddy bubbles of joy in his twisted heart whenever he annoyed me, so he naturally decided to bug me at my side of the quidditch pitch for entirely too much time. I had to keep on saving goals and moving from my comfortable position with the good view, and it was bothersome. I chose to pointedly overlook the little nagging detail in my head that attempting to score goals was his actual job (while saving them was mine), but if I listened to it, that would mean I would have to admit that Potter was not solely attempting to gain points for the joy of aggravating me, which was impossible to believe.

The game was fairly repetitive so far, with neither team gaining the advantage. I did however enjoy shooting Potter winning smiles whenever I saved a goal (and steadfastly ignoring his grins that were entirely too smug whenever he somehow managed to slip a goal past me. Unfortunately, he might actually be somewhat of a good chaser, so it happened once or twice. Or a couple times more).

But for the most part, Gryffindor and Slytherin were tied. Gryffindor's chasers were good-ish (fine, brilliant), but they did not have a great keeper, while Slytherin's chasers did not have the same easy flow between them like Gryffindor (although they did have me. Which I like to think counts for something).

The score was 60-70 (Slytherin in the lead!) when I noticed something odd. Kevin fumbled with the quaffle in an uncharacteristically awkward display of athleticism. He appeared to randomly drop the quaffle, surrendering it to some blond fourth year that I vaguely recognized. Rose Weasley conveniently announced that he called Michael McLaggen. Ah yes. The perfect Prefect Princess's younger demon brother.

Five minutes later, it happened again. Kevin had gotten the quaffle, and was speeding to the other side of the pitch. The younger, male version of Paisley was flying right next to Kevin. Suddenly, Kevin swerved into McLaggen, probably causing him a fair amount of pain, but dropping the quaffle in the process (where it was snatched up by Lily Potter). An unsettled feeling snaked into my stomach.

"Lily Potter dodges a nicely aimed bludger from fifth year Emily Gates and passes to James Potter, who-" the Rose Weasley's voice faded out of my head as I turned my attention from the announcer's box, following Kevin with my eyes.

His face had began resembling an infuriated bull, which, from my extensive time knowing him, generally meant that he was about to blow up, lose all remaining sense that had not been knocked out from years of quidditch practice, and probably go grunt a lot and smash things. Hopefully, in this case, not Michael McLaggen's head. He was staring at him rather viciously.

I was curious at what the little twerp McLaggen was doing. Kevin cared about quidditch, and, although I would generally vote otherwise, he was not stupid. He would never jeopardize his win for some ridiculous thing a fourth year was doing.

"-and Potter passes to McLaggen, successfully avoiding an interception from seventh year Chaser Meredith Jones. MacLaggen continues on, with both Potter and Goyle following him."

McLaggen raced towards me, innocently unaware that a murderous quidditch captain was trailing him with the intent to tackle/maim painfully. The rest of the chasers had spent enough time in tortuous practices with Kevin to know that something was wrong, and they held back hesitantly. Nobody else seemed to register that something was off. Rose Weasley continued to happily spout off the blow-by-blow of the match, and Potter probably just thought mad and stupid were the typical reigning expressions on Kevin's face.

I was so absorbed watching the oncoming players that I did not see the bludger until the last second, rolling out of the way a moment too late, and getting hit right in the stomach. I wheezed for a second, attempting to ignore the burst of pain, and tried to focus on the positive things, such as the pretty purple color it would become, instead of the rather depressing reality that not only would it be incredibly painful later, but two quidditch players were still hurtling towards me, quite likely to give me a much more interestingly colored bruise to offset the bludger-shaped purple one.

McLaggen attempted a bad feint towards the left (Apparently he was not entirely stupid, he knew enough to be intimidated by the fire being breathed down his neck). I caught the ball easily in front of the middle hoop, and passed it to Kevin just in time to hear McLaggen utter a phrase the completely decimated any potential of me believing he could possibly be an alright human being.

"I heard your own dad killed her, that you're all just filthy Death Eaters." For the first time since I have begun flying, I almost fell off my broom. I regained my balance in time to see Kevin abandon the quaffle for a much more favorable target (McLaggen's face). I was so, so tempted to let him.

Instead, I dove into the jumble of broomsticks and flaying limbs, and hook my arm around one of Kevin's, who did not cease his attempts at rearranging McLaggen's nose, and tried to haul him out of the mess. McLaggen's screams were interlaced with the whistle blowing loudly. Rose Weasley was speaking very fast into the microphone, but my head jumbled all of her words together.

Scorpius Malfoy, our seeker, and coincidentally another childhood acquaintance, appeared out of nowhere and latched his arm around Kevin's other side. Together we were able to drag him away from McLaggen, who was whimpering and clutching him broomstick in one hand and his head in the other. I glared at him unsympathetically. I sincerely hoped my eyes were was homicidal as they felt in my head. I could not believe that he had mentioned Kaitlin to Kevin. It was beyond cruel. But how did he even know that Kevin's sister had been murdered seven years ago? The family did their best to cover it up in order to avoid the press and put her to rest peacefully.

Sometime while I was working on perfecting my heat ray vision, Potter and Professor Lupin, who referees the matches, had approached McLaggen, while the rest of the Gryffindor team hung back and the Slytherins confusedly huddled around Kevin and me. Kevin, who had still been struggling to once again begin his assault, slumped against Scorpius' and my hold when he saw Professor Lupin.

"What happened?" Professor Lupin spoke in a crisp, authoritative voice that was very different from his typical laid back attitude.

"He just started attacking me!" McLaggen whined loudly. Professor turned to Kevin, but I interjected.

"He was provoked." I spat, intensifying my glare. I don't think I have ever been this mad. McLaggen flinched. Kevin stared at Professor Lupin stonily (a defensive mechanism characteristic to both our families. It's also part of the reason we were such a dysfunctional couple. We would just stare mutinously at each other when we fought).

"And how was provoked, Miss Alden?" Lupin spoke calmly. I was completely unsure of what to say. After a beat of silence where it became clear I was not going to answer, he sighed.

"The rules are extremely clear. If a player purposefully attacks another player, they will be disqualified from the match, with possible longer term consequences to be discussed with your Head of House later. Mr. Goyle's intentions were unmistakable. Mr. Goyle, if you would follow me." Lupin looked a bit uncomfortable. "The rest of you, get ready to begin again. Penalty shot for Gryffindor."

I could barely speak with the anger. It was not fair. Goyle nodded to us slightly, woodenly refusing to meet any of our eyes, before flying ahead of Lupin down towards the stands. I felt a sick feeling in my stomach. I tugged on my keeper's gloves, gave a slight inclination to the rest of the team who was straggling hesitantly with angry expressions and worried eyes, and returned to my position.

When the game began again, it was obvious that our flow was shaken. The Gryffindors gained the ball immediately, and although I managed to block a goal, my insides were simmering with anger. We fell apart. The chasers were out of time, and the beaters' aim was off. I missed the next goal, and Scorpius took a bludger.

The best thing I can say about the rest of the match was that it did not last long. Five minutes after Kevin left the pitch, Albus Potter caught the snitch, securing an utter win for Gryffindor at 220-70.

At that point, I barely cared. I was just glad it was over.

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/

~Roxanne Point of View~

There was so much action packed into the last five minutes of the game, that I barely noticed when it finished. With Kevin Goyle's fight, James' goal, and Al's catching of the snitch, I remained in my seat for a couple minutes afterwards, expecting something else to happen. Leaving felt anti-climatic.

The Gryffindor team was still on the pitch hugging each other and celebrating, while the Slytherin team had slumped into the changing rooms several minutes before. I could pick out Fred and Lily from the crowd, but James and Al got lost in the jumble of heads.

"Did you want to go congratulate them?" Sam asked me.

"Nah. I'll wait until their posse of fans is not around." She grinned, and led the way out of the rapidly draining stands. My head whipped around automatically when I heard my name, and I turned straight into the grinning face of my dad.

"Dad!" I jumped up to give him a hug, spotting my mum over his shoulder. "I didn't know you were apparating over to watch the match!"

"'Course we decided to. We have been hearing all the rumors of James' new rivalry with your new Slytherin friend –Nashira, is it?- Had to sift through the lies to find the truth with our own eyes. She appears to not have a triple chin or the rumored fangs, at least, as far as I could see. However, I remain neutral on the matter of her lizard tongue. Of course, your brother was playing too." My dad's eyes twinkled down at me. I turned to hug my mum as well.

"How's school been?" I rolled my eyes. Ever the typical mother. My dad interrupted with his idea of a more pressing question.

"Put your Prefect's badge to some actual use yet?" My mum lightly hit my dad. I grinned, if only he knew.

"Ah ha! I see the sparkle of mischief shining in your eyes. Tell me, what evil plots have you concocted?" I was saved from answering by the appearance of Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry. They were beaming, the poster image of proud parents. Aunt Ginny pulled me into a tight hug, enveloping me in her cinnamon scent.

"How have you been Roxie? Keeping James in line, I hope."

"We both know that's impossible." She gave me another small squeeze, before letting me go.

"That it is. I must say, your new friend has me intrigued. James has us all caught up on the stories of her carnivorous teeth and five inch forked tongue." I groaned.

"I thought my dad was joking about that."

"Nope. She's a good keeper though, I was impressed. Don't let those boys talk you out of a friendship with her because they have created some archaic picture of her sacrificing victims and dancing over their bodies covered in blood." I winced a bit at the image.

"Got it Aunt Ginny." She sent me a wide grin and then turned to my dad, probably to berate him about sending Al more WWW products. Uncle Harry turned to me, his green eyes smiling.

"Tell your friend she's also always welcome to come to Christmas dinner." I nodded, a little bewildered. "I have a feeling she would shake things up a bit." Undoubtedly, and in a much more literal sense than I think Uncle Harry intended. With her and James under one roof, something was bound to explode.

"I'll let her know. Not sure if she will want to sacrifice herself to the chaos that is our family." Every year we had a Christmas party at the Potter's, and every year something happened to give us a slight push back into our natural state of anarchy. Every year Aunt Ginny swears it will be a normal, nice dinner. Her optimism is both refreshing and futile.

I said goodbye to my parents, who were off to find Fred, and started to trek up to the castle, on the edge of the thinning throng.

I killed time in the library for several hours, getting caught up on a Charms essay, before heading down to dinner. Most people were already there when I got there, and I slide into a seat next to Kelly, who was, as per usual, reading a book. She marked her page, and we began to chat about the latest novel she had recommended me. We were interrupted by a tall, blond girl in Slytherin robes, who I vaguely recognized as Nashira's friend Lianne.

"Have you seen Nashira by any chance? She's not been in the dorms or come to dinner." I looked at her, concerned.

"When did you last see her?"

"Before the match." She answered briskly, but I could see in her eyes that she was worried as well.

"Sorry,no. I'll ask around though." She nodded, and left back to the Slytherin table where a tall, dark haired guy was waiting for her.

I smiled apologetically at Kelly, who waved me off, and left to find the center of the cyclone of madness surrounding the Gryffindor table.

When I managed to worm my way to the very middle of the loud celebration, I tapped James on the shoulder, prompting several surround Gryffindors to turn and glance at me curiously.

"Roxie! Come to join in the festivities?" James' hair was more mussed than usually, which, combined with his excitement, made him look like a gleeful toddler.

"No, actually." I lowered my voice. "Can I borrow the map?" James turned a bit more serious.

"Why? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, I just need it for a couple of hours." He looked penetratingly at me for a moment, nodded decisively, and began ruffling in his bag. I grew despairing after the three broken quills, several wads of crumpled paper, and two pieces of parchment that looked like they had come from the same age as the Marauders were scattered on the table as he searched for the map.

"Really James?" I sighed, exasperated. I should have known better. James' organization (or lack of it) is legendary.

"Here it is!" He shouted triumphantly. Several more watched him inquiringly. "Transfiguration notes," he explained shortly. They raised their eyebrows. I mentally slapped my head. Not that it really matters, but nobody would actually believe that James had taken better notes than me. He was also notorious for his (lack of) study skills. Somehow, with never taking notes or appearing to exert any effort, he manages to receive top marks (one of the reasons Aunt Ginny has not murdered him for all of his pranks). Many people have attempted to figure out his exact tactics, but with little success. I strongly suspect he spends hours hidden away out of sight in the library, but have no proof to support this theory.

"Thanks James. Seriously."

"Any time my lovely cousin."

I waited until I was in the deserted Entrance Hall before opening the map. It took me a while to find the pair of footprints that read "Nashira Alden." Eventually I spotted them on the quidditch pitch, moving too fast to be on foot. Was she really flying this entire time?

I tugged on my sweater, and walked out of the castle in the direction of the pitch. It was cold, and I wrapped my arms around myself. It was already dark out, but it was a beautiful night. Crystalline stars shown down on me, and a half-full moon provided enough light so I did not trip over my own feet.

By the time I got to the quidditch pitch, the exercise had warmed me and I was no longer shivering. I spotted Nashira almost immediately. The map made it look as if she was flying at a neck-breaking speed, but from this perspective she appeared to be gliding calmly, as if on a leisure ride. However, her body was tense.

I raised my wand, releasing a stream of gold sparks to alert her to my presence. She slowed, and dropped until she was twenty feet away, just close enough to have a conversation with slightly raised voices.

"How long have you been down here?" I knew I sounded motherish, but I was worried. My concern was eased slightly when I noticed she had at least changed out of her robes into a large Holyhead Harpies sweatshirt.

"A couple hours I think? It helps me clear my mind."

"Nashira! You need to come down now, people are worried about you. More specifically, Lianne."

"I will, soon. I just need some time to think."

"You also need to eat, rest, and probably shower. You can think later, you do enough of that already."

"I just… I dunno. I just need to think. I'll be down in a bit, don't wait for me." With that abrupt dismissal, she angled her broom upward and shot towards the stars, looking just as isolated and lonely as the solitary glimmering lights.

I sighed, feeling annoyed. She was just like my cousin Al sometimes, retreating into herself and ignoring the world. I glanced up at her, debating what I should do. She looked weighed down from here, despite the fact that she was hundreds of feet in the air. I couldn't leave her. Which meant that I had to get hundreds of feet in the air too. My stomach churned unhappily. The things I do for friends and family. I got my wand from my pocket.

"_Accio Air-Racer_." I figured Fred would still be at dinner, and hopefully not notice his broom flying out of his window (although his priceless expression might be worth it). Anyway, he owed me (for multiple things. Too many to list, really). A minute later, his broom was hovering expectantly in the air next to me. I took a breath and closed my eyes, reaching out for it. I had not flown since the required lessons in first year.

I mounted the broom, wrapping my legs around it and clinging to it rigidly. Even hovering a foot in the air sent my insides jumping. With another deep breath, I steered the broom upwards and moving with an unbalanced jolt. I tried to scream, but the wind rushing in my face tore the sounds away. I looked down for a moment and discovered the unpleasant fact that I was fifty feet in the air, with only a thin enchanted stick supporting me. The shock of it upset my fragile equilibrium, and I almost tumbled off into freefall.

Suddenly, a hand grasped my sleeve, pulling my upright and away from an early death.

"Calm down Roxie, take a breath. Move a bit forward." Nashira steadied me as I made slight adjustments according to her dictation. When it became apparent that I was not about to topple over, my heart began to slow to normal speed. "I am letting go now." Until that. My eyes shot open, but Nashira had already released me.

I didn't die, which was a positive thing. I just sort of sat there, completely frozen.

"Relax Roxie, you're fine." I sent an unconvinced glare in her direction. She grinned at me. "I can't believe you came up here."

"Neither can I. It was a moment of temporary insanity, Fred's influence. I remember why I hate flying now."

"Please, you can't hate something you never gave a chance."

"I have!" She gave me a knowing look. "Whatever. Are you done brooding up here yet? Every minute I stay up here increases my chances of dying, and I am pretty sure James would hold you completely accountable."

"I don't doubt it. And let it be known, I am allowing you to change the subject, you did not distract me." She sent me a small smile. "And since I am assuming you will not be leaving until I come down, we can leave in a minute." A relieved feeling filled my body.

"I can't understand why you like it up here anyway." I conjured up a disdainful expression.

"I love the feeling of the wind, and the sense of being a part of something bigger. It's beautiful up here. Look." She gestured to the world below us. With a reluctant expression, I tore my eyes away from her face, which I had been fixedly staring at.

Being this far up was not nearly as scary now that I was not about to fall to my death. Hogwarts looked smaller and cozier from here, and everything looked toy-size. The wind blew my hair from my face, and I could hear the rustle of it in the forbidden forest (along with several creepier sounds I decided not to focus on too hard). Most especially, however, was how much closer the stars seemed. It was like being immersed in a pool of swirling colors and blinking sparkles. It was beautiful and tore my breath from my body. I felt like I was seeing the world through Nashira's eyes, like we were completely in synch.

"Oh." Her triumphant look almost ruined the moment. "I guess it's not that terrible up here." I felt like I was seeing a part of Nashira that I never would have if I had not come up here with her. I could tacitly sense that up here was her escape place, and it made me feel like I knew her a bit better.

Once we finally landed, Nashira turned towards me.

"Thanks Roxie. For coming up after me." She continued a bit awkwardly. "Knowing someone cares enough to ignore her completely irrational and fake fear of flying and come after me means a lot." Despite the underlying hints of sarcasm regarding my dislike of flying, I grinned.

"It's not irrational or fake." I ignored her skeptical look.

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/

~Nashira's Point of View~

When I finally returned to the Slytherin common room, it was past curfew. The room was mostly dark, except for the faint green glow radiating from the skulls. I only wanted to collapse in my bed, sleep for the next year, and dream away the memory of today.

I didn't notice Kevin until he spoke, causing me to jump. He was sitting on one of the sleek, black couches and blending into the dark background perfectly.

"Nashira." He spoke evenly.

"Kevin." I flicked my wand so a stream of light erupted from it, causing jagged shadows to move across his now visible face. I hesitated, and then ploughed on. "Are you alright? I heard what McLaggen said to you today." He didn't react to my comment.

"I need to be able to depend on every person on my team. I need to know I can trust them, that they will be there every single moment I need them, and that they have no conflict of interests. "

"Just because we lost today does not mean we are any less a team. It's just one game."

"But we were off. It didn't work." I stared at him, and sighed. I was too tired to deal with this right now.

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'll be honest. You have been one of the few people I have been able to explicitly trust over the years. But I can't do that if you are fraternizing with the enemy, consorting with Weasleys." I sputtered.

"You mean Roxanne? She has nothing to do with anything, she doesn't even like quidditch."

"But I need to know that you are here, that your head is completely focused on the game."

"It is!"

"It's not just Roxanne. Once you get to know _them_, you unconsciously change. You may think you treat them the same as always, but your emotions will unintentionally influence your actions. You stop caring about winning and only care about mesmerizing Potter's eyes are. " His voice raised, he glared at me.

"I don't even like Potter! He's an arrogant git. I have no intention of becoming friends with him, much tell him quidditch secrets. You can't seriously think we lost today because I am friends with Roxanne." I glared at him. He lifted his hands in a placating motion.

"I'm not saying that it was your fault. We're a team. But the Gryffindors are ruthless, and will do anything they can to win. You saw what they did today." He cleared his throat awkwardly, and I felt a twinge of pity. It was obvious the loss was digging at him as much as it was at me. "If they have to, they will guilt Roxanne to weasel information from you."

"Even if she ever agreed to that, which she wouldn't, I would never leak our team's secrets. Even for Roxanne."

"But I can't risk it. I have to do what's best for the team. And as captain, I am telling you now that you have to choose." I gaped at him.

"You can't do that."

"Trust me, I really don't want to, but I have to." He even managed to look apologetic.

"Kevin, please. I can swear to you it won't get in the way."

"I really am sorry Nashira, but it's us or them."

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/

I actually had this written for a while, but I didn't publish it because I intended to include the Hogsmeade visit. It's been a bit too long though, and I wanted to do something, especially since all you readers are lovely and wonderful. Tell me what you think of this chapter, if you think some of the events were too out of place. Please review! And to everybody who has, thank you so much! I am a new writer, and any feedback helps :)


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own the lovely piece of art that is Harry Potter. It is the result of J.K. Rowling's genius.

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~Roxanne's Point of View~

Boys are horrible, drama-causing prats. They smell terrible, eat all the food, and have ridiculous I-am-manlier-than-thou competitions that just end up making them all look like mindless gits. Fred observed my revolted, scrunched up expression directed at his enormous mouthful of disgustingly sticky waffles with confusion.

"Problem, sister?" He stabbed another gigantic piece.

"I don't even know how to respond to that." Lily paused her conversation with her friend to shoot me a sympathetic look.

"Just be happy you don't have to deal with them every day." She sighed with an air of great self-sacrifice. "My eyes are forever scarred." Despite their differences in coloring, one could tell that Lily was James's younger sister solely from their shared melodramatic attitude.

Even with the hundreds of history books proclaiming the exemplary character of my Uncle Harry, these two are the only real proof one needs to show he has the patience of a saint. I still don't know how he and Aunt Ginny survive. Luckily, Albus, the middle child, actually seems to have some common sense. He's forever teased about being the black sheep of the family.

"You know you love us." James butted in the conversation with a scarily happy voice, a byproduct of the quidditch win yesterday. Lily surveyed him for a moment, letting him see her disdain seeping out, before pointedly ignoring his comment. James gave her a mock affronted look, and she turned back towards me.

"You look pretty today. Hot date?" I inwardly groaned. I had spent forever trying to figure out what to wear on my "outing" with Matt to Hogsmeade today (I was avoiding calling it a date, but even I wasn't that oblivious). After empting my entire trunk onto my floor, I settled with a new, purple V-neck shirt and a gray cardigan, brushing on some mascara to complete the look. As far as dressing up went, it was pretty mild, but I still felt self-conscious. Naturally Lily just had to point it out. Fred interrupted before I could reply.

"Don't be ridiculous Lily, she's coming to Hogsmeade with us. We were going to stop by our dad's shop." I cleared my throat awkwardly.

"Actually, I'm not going with you." All eyes turned towards me in a creepily in-synch display.

"You do have a date!" Lily looked gleefully. "With whom?" She was grinning manically with her blinding white teeth, looking like the only pleased person in the conversation, myself included. James looked startled, Fred looked horrified, and Frank merely raised an eyebrow.

"Er. It happened in charms the other day…" I trailed off into an indistinguishable mutter as everyone continued to stare at me. Thankfully, I was saved by a brown bullet of feathers toppling into the pumpkin juice pitcher, dousing Fred entirely. He started to swear, while the rest of us burst out laughing (me mostly at relief due to the interruption of my interrogation).

"What in the name of Merlin was _that_?" Fred interrupted his steady stream of curses to examine his attacker. Lily laughed harder.

"That's just Tipsy, Sofia's owl." Lily's friend turned a marvelous shade of red from the seat next to Lily.

"I'm so sorry! He's a complete klutz." Fred looked disgruntled, but waved off the rest of her apologies. Frank waved his wand, making the spilled juice disappear, while Sofia detached the letter from Tipsy.

Seeing that the conversation was about to redirect itself back towards me, I took advantage of the moment to start up a discussion to distract them.

"What do you need from dad's shop anyway?" I asked Fred.

"Supplies, of course." I rolled my eyes.

"I know that, but usually you just have dad send you any pranking things you need."

"Yes, but this needs to be big!" James jumped in enthusiastically.

"Apparently we're celebrating." Frank shook his head amusedly.

"Do I want to know what?"

"The surrender of the Dark Phantom!" Fred stole back the train of speech. At my blank look, he elaborated. "He hasn't done anything since we declared war. Obviously, we have intimidated him back into nonexistence."

"How do you know that he isn't planning some huge prank?" We weren't, but I didn't like their presumptuous behavior. Nashira and I hadn't discussed our pranking career anymore, and I still wasn't sure if I wanted to act behind my family's back or drop the Dark Phantom. Apparently the Marauders had decided for us.

"We just do." I sighed, exasperated.

"Whatever you say."

There was a beat of silence, before Lily's voice drew our attention towards her once again.

"Sofia, are you alright?" I glanced at the blonde third year, who was looking pale and clenching a small piece of paper with white knuckles.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm fine." She answered distractedly. At Lily's disbelieving expression, she continued. "Really. I just got an odd letter, that's all."

"What did it say?"

"Nothing, I'm overreacting, it's just a stupid joke. I won't let it get to me." Lily looked about to argue, but Sofia jumped up before she could.

"I just realized I forgot my jumper in the tower, I'll be back in a couple of minutes." Before Lily could even call after her, Sofia was gone, leaving a trail of bewildered faces behind her.

"Well that was strange." Fred shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder about the sanity of the Hogwarts population." Frank shot him a look, clearly telling Fred to assess the irony in his statement.

Lily stared at the closing door to the Great Hall, looking worried. While the attention was again diverted away from me, I decided to depart before I was subject to interrogation again.

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/

~Nashira's Point of View~

I woke up at the lovely hour of seven in the morning in an ecstatic mood, ready for the thrilling day ahead. Not.

Sleep tauntingly mocked me from an unreachable realm until the wee hours of the morning, at which point I was granted my ever-comforting, reoccurring nightmare. I woke up tangled in my bedsheets, feeling like I was suffocating in my own fear. I was overheated, weak-limbed, and gasping for breath. Not to mention, my shoulder was continuously jabbing me with harsh stabs of pain.

I finally managed to muster enough strength to drag myself out of bed and the cool November air hit me with a welcoming collision. Luckily, all of my dormmates were still captured in their own bubbles of blissful sleep. I was just thankful none of them had woken. I shuddered to think of what Paisley would do if she found out I still had nightmares.

With weak legs, I staggered out of bed towards my trunk, grabbing my salve, and then lurched to the bathroom as silently as possible, locking the door and accidentally gasping loudly when I saw my reflection, thinking it was some murderer waiting to pounce on me. The nightmare always made me jumpy, although, quite frankly, my unraveled appearance probably could have triggered the same reaction. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the refreshing morning air.

My eyes were wide and bloodshot and my face was a sickly pallid color. I leaned my forehead against the cool walls, closing my eyes ad trying to still myself. Eventually, my heart felt a bit less like it was going to crack open my chest, and I opened my eyes.

The wildness remained in my reflection, but it didn't seem uncontrollably inhumane. I splashed cold water on my face in an ineffective attempt to look as if I had rejoined the living population.

My shoulder was aching as it always did after those dreams, and I hissed as I pulled aside the fabric of my nightshirt. The bright lights of the bathroom captured the four thin silvery lines racking my shoulder with perfect clarity. Over the past six months, they had faded to a spiderwebbing of indented lines, but they stood out fiercely against my pale skin.

I reached for the small jar of salve the healers had showed me how to brew, ignoring the stab the movement induced. As I unscrewed the lid to the faintly yellow, watery mixture, a ginger-like smell pervaded the room.

The first dab of the medicine on my shoulder caused me to suck in a stab of air through clenched teeth. After that, it got better. I massaged the potion onto my skin, savoring the feeling of the pain melting away. By the time the pain had faded ten minutes later, the menial task had calmed my mind.

I was screwing the lid on the jar when I loud rap to the door nearly caused me to catapult the jar across the bathroom. Paisley's whiny voice sliced through the blissful silence.

"Nashira, open up." I let out a quick breath, securely tightening the lid with shaking hands. I did another quick check in the mirror, decided I didn't look noticeably more hideous than I normally did at seven in the morning, and opened the door for Paisley, not even trying to mask my irritation.

"What." She pushed past me in the doorway.

"Do you have to lock the door? Merlin, you're such a prude. You never used to be this self conscious. And what's that smell?" She wrinkled her nose at the strong scent from my salve.

"The poison I doused your toothbrush with." She gave me a look.

"Not funny. You seriously look like a psychopath this morning."

"Why are you even up? You do know it's the weekend, right?" Paisley enjoyed her beauty sleep.

"Hello? It's Hogsmeade today."

"Right. Of course. How could I forget that you need to primp and plaster a solid pound of makeup on your face?" She sniffed at me.

"Between you and me, you might want to try it too." She surveyed me again. "You look like you could use it."

"Thanks, Paisley. Real supportive there." She rolled her eyes.

"Look. I know we don't exactly have a great relationship." I raised my eyebrows and she shrugged. "It's not my fault you're supremely jealous of me. But anyway, as much as it pains me to say it, losing quidditch yesterday wasn't your fault." Right. Quidditch. I had somehow managed to forget about yesterday's disaster. I immediately felt my insides clench. At least I had a scapegoat for my zombie-like appearance.

"Er, thanks I guess." She shrugged again.

"Still doesn't mean I like you, but don't take the match to heart. In my opinion, it's a stupid game. There's so much better things to be doing than trying to murder each other with quaffles or whatever."

"I can't believe you actually know what a quaffle is."

"It's not willing, I can assure you. But there are too many beautiful guys on the team, and they get very protective of their sport. I can't go on a date with them without the subject popping up." She sighed, and I nearly laughed, completely surprising myself.

Actually, this entire conversation was surprising. I don't think I have spoken normally with Paisley since third year. It's probably because we're both sleep-deprived. I shook my head, feeling freaked out, and decided to escape before we started shrieking at each other. "Bye Paisley. Be merciful to your victim today." She stared at me with her Prefect glare. "Er, date, I meant date."

As much as I wanted to sleep until the end of eternity, I knew there was no chance that I was going to drift off again. I decided to be productive instead, and lugged the huge pile of homework I had been abandoning for the past week due to quidditch down into the common room. I wasn't going to miss the utter chaos that took over my life whenever a match tiptoed closer.

An hour and a half of transfiguration did nothing to improve my mood, but I at least felt accomplished after managing to finish an entire essay. The incomprehensible subject also managed to distract me from the thoughts of yesterday, at least until the rest of the common room began to fill with sullen Slytherins. They sent me small encouraging smiles that I didn't return. They hadn't heard yet.

I desperately needed to escape from the school. I dashed up to my dorm to change and grab my bag, before heading down towards the entrance hallway. If you got to the carriages before ten, there was usually no wait.

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/

~Roxie's Point of View~

So far, my date didn't necessarily make me want to poke my eyes out. It wasn't a great starting point, but also not the terrifying disaster I had been imagining all week. I felt awkward, but we managed to keep the conversation flowing, even if we mostly just spoke about classes.

I mean, Matt Davies wasn't an utter troll. He was nice, acted far more gentlemanly than any of the Marauders would have, and had warm brown eyes (even if he did get distracted on long tangents that caused me to zone out within ten seconds).

We walked around Hogsmeade for a bit, before I realized that he was steering me in the direction of Madame Puddifoots. I approached the store with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Personally, I had never been inside, but the stories were legendary. James never spoke of it without using a guarded whisper, and he swore that, after breaking up with his old girlfriend, he would never again be caught by its frilly pink teeth.

Matt held the door for me, sending me a smile, to which I uncomfortably responded. The first thing we saw upon our entrance was a couple viciously snogging. I mistakenly made eye contact with Matt, and the awkwardness returned.

The next thing I noticed was the pink, which was entirely impossible to not notice as it was everywhere. I felt like I had stepped into one of Dominique's eight year old Princess fantasies. The lacey aproned lady at the front showed us to a table in the back, regrettably away from windows. Now I could only look at Matt or gawk at the couples next to us, who were at the minimum, romantically gazing at each other in a completely sappy and unrealistic fashion.

Matt ordered tea for us. I sat back in my plushy pink seat, trying to relax. I had been tense this entire date, and I felt like I was lying to Matt. I had no intention of beginning a relationship with him and this date felt like a scam to get free raspberry flavored tea and cookies out of him.

Matt grabbed my hand to get my attention.

"Hey, are you alright?" His fingers lingered a second too long on my skin, nearly making my brain shatter with discomfort. I laughed it off, pasting my best interested smile on, and shook my head.

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry. I just zoned off for a minute." He happily took control of the conversation from there.

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/

~Nashira's Point of View~

I love Hogsmeade because of its anonymity. Too much activity makes it easy to blend into the background, especially if you have been practicing your entire life. With it being the location of several sketchy pubs, there are quite a few characters more eye catching and intriguing than a solitary teenage girl in a dark hoodie.

Wandering around Hogsmeade had the same relaxing effect as my nightly trips around Hogwarts. I could feel the tension melting off of me in delightfully freeing waves. I grinned to myself.

I passed by several odd characters, including a screeching witch with a one eared cat, a thin wizard carrying five bags entirely filled with chocolate frogs, and an angry goblin with a suspicious package tucked under his arm who gave me a glare as I walked past. But the one person who caused me to do a double take was an ordinary looking boy unobtrusively sitting on a bench.

I stared suspiciously at Frank Longbottom. You would have completely skipped over him if you weren't looking, but something about him caught my attention. Maybe it was because he was split off from Potter and Weasley for what was probably the first time in their entire lives, or maybe it was because he kept anxiously glancing down the street every couple seconds. I raised an eyebrow and was about to walk past, when he turned his head and caught my eye.

He stared, surprised, at me for a moment, before his face cleared into recognition and the unmistakable signs of panic. The alarm bells in my head started beeping with suspicion.

"Oh, um, Nashira. Hey." I focused my interrogation stare on him, willing him to break and reveal whatever evil plot the Marauders were putting into play. I figured he was the look out while Potter and Weasley committed the real crime, and I wasn't in the mood to have the street turn into a river of quicksand underneath my feet, or whatever prank they were planning. Although they apparently aren't good at strategy, because giving Frank the position of look out was a terrible idea. He looked jumpy and nervous, although he was trying very unsuccessfully to hide it.

"Hi Frank. What are you doing here?"

"Er, nothing really. People watching." He glanced back down the street, and I almost pitied his blatantly obvious subterfuge skills. I followed his line of sight down the street, looking for signs of Potter, Weasley, and any hints of mayhem that would clue me into where not to stand when their prank went up. What I saw was not Fred cackling evilly, or Potter causing mischief, but an innocuous sign with curly pink lettering. I sighed, as the pieces clicked into place.

"Are you seriously following Roxie on her date?"

"Psh, what? I dunno what you mean." I fixed my stare on him again and gleefully noted the pink flush creeping up his neck. I grinned.

"You are!"

"No! Why would I even care if she starts dating someone? I just happened to be here." He stood up and crossed his arms.

"So having known her your entire life is not a good enough reason to care? Getting defensive, are we? Which means that you're here for another reason." I stared at him accusingly. "You like her!" He winced.

"Don't be ridiculous." He looked a bit worried at the smirk that was overtaking my face.

"That's so cute!" (It really was). He looked both bemused and resigned at my gushing (which was done in the most Slytherin-like way possible. Sorta. There may have been some high pitched squealing. What can I say? I'm a secret romantic sap).

"Shut up, you don't know what you're talking about." He muttered to me, with the red crawling up his face now.

"Ooh. Potter and Weasley don't know, do they? Even better! And no worries, I won't tell." I hope he and Roxie do get together, Frank seemed kinda adorable. Plus, as much as Roxie tried to hide it, it was kind of obvious that she had been painfully in love with him for quite a while. I snickered manically to myself.

"Great. I love trusting Slytherins." He winced again. "Not that you're right or anything." Poor boy. I shook my head and winked at him.

"Of course not."

"Aren't you supposed to be hiding after you were completely crushed in yesterday's quidditch match?"

"Ouch. Low blow. But I'll let it go because I understand that your newfound love for your lifelong friend makes you prickly."I don't think I have ever seen Frank so uncomfortable, so I decided to take pity on him. "Fine, fine, I'll change the subject."

Just at that moment, Frank looked down towards Madame Puddifoot's for possibly the thousandth time. His expression immediately morphed into alarm, and in a split second he had grabbed my arm and dragged me behind a large cart selling enchanted scarves that were charmed to match your outfit. I yanked my arm back from him, rubbing it.

"Subtle. That really blended in." Being forcefully dragged really brought out my sarcastic side. Frank sighed.

"It's not what it looks like."

"Alright."

"I'm not following her because I'm jealous or like her or whatever."

"Sure."

"It's as you said. I've known her for years and I want to make sure she's alright."

"Ok."

"And Davies has a reputation for being a git."

"If you say so." Frank glared at me. "Look. It's nice that you care so much for her," I held up my hand before he could interrupt me "as friends or whatever your relationship with her is. But you can't stalk her on her date. She doesn't need a babysitter and she can take care of herself."

"I'm not stalking her." Frank grumbled sullenly. I rolled my eyes.

"Secretly following someone around generally qualifies as stalking. You can spruce it up with the euphemism of 'people watching' to appease your conscience, but it's the same thing." Frank ignored me, peeking out behind the cart, and immediately ducking back behind it. Apparently Roxie hadn't reached an appropriate stalking distance yet. Frank was about to reply when a voice interrupted us.

"Frank, what are you doing here?" Fred Weasley glanced at me with suspicion. "I thought you said you had to buy some quills?" Fred rolled his eyes just in case any of us somehow managed to possibly forget his disdain for all things school related. Potter interrupted next.

"If you skived us off to date Alden I might have to revoke your Marauder privileges." His tone was joking, but I wondered how truthful his statement actually was. I somehow didn't think they would take well to having their exclusive group interrupted by a girl (and this isn't even taking into account that I'm a wicked, malicious Slytherin hell bent on kidnapping their family members).

"Potter, I would never subject myself to the nightmare of dating someone inside of your little clique."

"Never?" James gasped, astonished. "Not even for Fred's lovely biceps?" Weasley proceeded to give me a macho display of said biceps, attracting catcalls from a middle aged witch walking past. I snorted while all the Marauders looked disturbed.

"Tempting, but no. I'll leave you for your mob of second year fangirls." Fred looked affronted.

"Our fan base by far exceeds the limits of second year!" I nodded understandingly.

"Of course it does."

"Well if you aren't having a torrid love affair, what are you both doing here?" James directed his question at Frank, but looked at me. I rolled my eyes.

"Hogsmeade isn't that big, coincidences happen. I can assure you that I wasn't purposefully searching out your charming company." Frank shot me a grateful look for not mentioning his "people watching" expedition. Speaking of which…

I watched as Fred's expression turned horrified as Roxie walked past.

"She's here with Davies? _Davies?_" James whipped around too and started mutter insults under his breath about "sly little gits." Frank immediately arranged a surprised expression on his face and sent me a look in exchange for my eyebrow raise.

"I can't believe she didn't tell us!" Fred looked annoyed and, if you wanted to dig down really deep and get all analytical, probably a little hurt too.

"Did you ever think that it might be because she knew you'd react like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like overprotective twits. You're her brother, not her keeper." I considered telling them that Roxie had been dreading this all week, but decided against it. Besides, they had already turned their attention from me.

"We should do something! He's probably trying to weasel out quidditch secrets." I threw my hands up in exasperation.

"Is that seriously the only thing guys think about? And I refuse to let you interrupt her date. Did you ever consider that maybe he actually likes her? It's not always about you all."

"Yeah, well, Davies is a git."

"You are going to leave her alone." I spoke slowly and enunciated every syllable in order that it might penetrate their thick skulls. James sighed.

"Look, how 'bout this. We won't storm off and butt in, but we'll follow at a safe, hidden distance and observe. If Davies steps out of line, then we can step in and help."

"Roxie doesn't need your help."

"You aren't going to get a better offer, and we're quite stubborn. You can't really stop us."

"You want to stalk her!" Why don't these idiotic prats understand that stalking is frowned upon in this society? Fred interrupted jovially.

"Don't think of it as stalking. It's more like… people watching." I gaped at him and let out a sigh of relent, while Frank shot me the smallest smirk. It was ridiculous and kinda funny how similar these boys thought.

"Whatever. But I'm coming with you to make sure your definitions of "stepping out of line" are in synch with the rest of the world's." I could very clearly see them barging in if he accidentally brushed her hand (much less tried to hold it).

"Whatever, but let's go before we lose sight of them." And here I was hoping that my Hogsmeade visit would be nice and relaxing. I could foresee this trip doubling my stress level.

Boys act like stubborn, obnoxious three year olds. They have one track minds, a need for their own way, and not an ounce of maturity. Or maybe that's just the Marauders (I suppose it's unfair to judge half of the population based on a group that proudly declares its abnormality).

Fred Weasley thought fart jokes were hilarious, even after the twelfth time. James Potter had an unhealthy obsession with his hair (and this is coming from someone who's lived with Paisley MacLaggen for her entire life). Frank, the one popularly believed as "normal" and "down to earth," has the most peculiar sense of humor I have ever heard (he sneaks in little ironic comments so subtly that they completely whiz past you until two minutes later, when the moment has far past and you can only marvel at his genius internally). It was exhausting (and I had only been doing this for an hour).

It was a flashback to two summers ago, when I was forced to babysit a nearby family's the eight year old twins and their younger sister. They had the same boundless energy, same addiction to sugar (Fred was now carrying an armful of sugar quills while James had dived into the chocolate frogs), and the same refusal to acknowledge authority. The only real main difference was they didn't have Frank's carefully planted remarks (I had decided that, after watching James run his hand through his hair for the hundredth time, he and the sister possessed the same level of vanity that it made the gender difference practically irrelevant).

"Nashiraaaa!" Fred whined at me. Somewhere over the past hour he and Frank had decided calling me Alden with menacing voices and a combative glare required too much effort (Potter was still holding strong though).

"What?" Fred had long since departed into the world of "sugar high," and was now rotating between poking Frank and laughing hysterically. I shouldn't have allowed them to go into Honeydukes….

"They just went into a bookstore." Fred observed with glee (after, of course, inserting his look of contempt for bookstores). "This, if I know my sister at all, means that we have a good hour to do whatever we want!"

"Uh huh." Another hour of the Marauders….

"Stop wasting time trying to explain to the ignorant!" Potter commanded, and he and Fred dashed off in the crowd, leaving me and Frank to slowly trail after their wake until we reached the doors of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes.

The Hogsmeade location had opened several years ago after Zonko's started having financial problems and George Weasley bought it out. Officially, the reason was so "poor Hogwarts students could continue on the tradition of terrorizing their teachers," but, after spending the day with two members of the Weasley family, I strongly suspected it had more to do with the spying potential it afforded George Weasley over his children (which, now that I have exchanged more than petty insults with Fred, seemed like a logical decision. I'm not sure I would have let him leave the house unchecked either).

The outside of the shop was exactly what one would expect of a joke shop run by a Weasley. It was loud, eye catching, and, depending on your sources, completely obnoxious. I saw a horrified mother dragging her five year old child away from the entrance before he could be lost among shelves of pranks, looking as if she were dragging him from the very source of sins and frivolousness. I opened the door hesitantly. Joke shopping with the Marauders seemed a little too weird for me. It was almost like we were friends (HA). I didn't trust them to not leave me stranded among aisles of extendable ears while they went out and murdered Davies.

Luckily, I spotted Fred and Potter right away, huddled next to sign advertising toy nifflers. The shop was crowded, as expected on a Hogsmeade visit, and I immediately ducked down a random aisle, while Frank went to join their plotting. I figured being in eyesight while they were planning a prank was not a good idea, as I would assuredly be the target.

I found myself eye level to a cage of multi colored pygmy puffs. I spent the next half hour browsing, making sure that I had a vague idea where the Marauders were so I wouldn't be abandoned here, and marveling at the range of pranks offered. My parents weren't too keen on joke shops, so most of my knowledge of WWW products came from the Marauder's demonstrations.

I was eyeing a package of shock quills (same appearance as sugar quills, but with a nasty electric addition), when a voice cut in next to me.

"You must be the notorious Nashira Alden." I glanced up to meet the eyes of George Weasley. I blinked for a moment at his bright purple WWW robes before giving him a small grin.

"Indeed."

"A pleasure. You have become quite the celebrity in our family." Ironic, considering this was the most famous family in the wizarding world. I gave him a grimace, not sure how else to respond. "So what's this I hear about you babysitting my charming son?" My face immediately contorted into an even stronger grimace. Mr. Weasley laughed.

"It was a mutually reluctant compromise for both of us."

"I gathered. I was told you were hindering their task of protecting Roxie from an 'ugly, stupid, illiterate troll.'" I rolled my eyes for what felt like the seventh millionth time today.

"Of course they told you that."

"Unfortunately, with all of their blatantly exaggerated insults, it was difficult to tell if I should actually be worried about him."

"You don't have to be." I assured him. "Matthew Davies is definitely not ugly or illiterate, but he does have a disturbingly large superiority complex." Mr. Weasley's eyes began to twinkle.

"Ah, one of _those_ kinds. Reminds me of my brother Percy. He was an insufferable git too." He faked a nostalgic look. "Speaking of Roxie, care to tell me what she's up to?"

"Er, sorry?"

"I have somewhat of a sixth sense for mischief and Roxie appears to be dabbling." He looked gleeful at the thought. He whispered conspiringly to me. "After six years of behaving, she might finally have broken into her rebellious stage." A proud, satisfied smile broke across his face. "So, what's she been doing?" After a good ten seconds of me gaping openmouthed at him, he decided to change tactics.

"What's this I hear about the Dark Phantom?" He prodded lightly.

"Um, what?" How did he even know about that? He wouldn't actually spy on his children, right? Probably? Mr. Weasley noticed my freaked out expression.

"Not that that's relevant, of course. I'm merely curious, as a former Hogwarts prankster. Fred hardly writes home, so our only source of information is from James, who's been known to somewhat dramatize the details." How surprising.

"There's not really a lot to tell. He hasn't done anything in a while; they say he's given up competing."

"Any truth to that statement?" I shrugged.

"I dunno. It's not really up to me." Interrogations make me defensive.

"Well, if it were up to me, I think he should keep up the rivalry. Fred's been getting lax lately." He spoke teasingly, giving me a small wink that made me laugh. I couldn't tell if he actually knew or not, but I think he at least suspected. Apparently Roxie's father knew her better then she thought. "Also, tell Roxie not to forget to write home if she needs anything." He dug around in a pocket inside of his robes, finally pulling out a WWW catalog, handing it to me. "Take this too, just for fun." I raised an eyebrow, slightly awed by how completely laid back he was.

"I'll remind her about writing home."

"I should be getting back to business now, but good luck keeping those boys in line." He glanced around him, before grabbing something at random from a shelf. "Have this, in case they get too hot headed. It's on me." He gave me a joking smile before disappearing into the crowd before I could even thank him.

I shook my head in amusement. I could see where Fred had gotten some of his odder quirks. After the excitement of meeting George Weasley, I decided to wait outside. I took a seat on the bench to wait. I glanced at the box Mr. Weasley had given me, which was still clutched in my hand. It was a bottle of Brain Freeze Breeze. Inside the box was small spray bottle filled with a bluish liquid. I rolled my eyes, before tucking it into my pocket.

Ten minutes later, I was glad I had left the shop early. I watched in amusement as Potter pushed Fred and Frank out the door.

"Hurry up-"

"—before she sees"

"GO."

They all saw me at the same moment and stopped short, skidding into each other in a completely cartoonish fashion. Potter sighed and swore under his breath.

"Hey Nashira, whatcha doing here?" Fred asked me brightly.

"How do you even manage to prank anybody? You three are quite possibly the most obvious people I have ever met." He shot me an innocent look.

"Guys, look." Frank directed our attention back to the bookshop, where Roxie and Davies had finally emerged, each carrying a small bag.

"Ha." Fred looked excited. "See? I knew she thought he was a git! They've only been in there for forty minutes. If their date was really going well, they would've been in there for much longer." Potter and Frank were nodding in assent, and I felt a spark of hope ignite.

"Maybe you should leave her in peace for the rest of the day."

"Don't be ridiculous." Potter chastised me with his hope squashing words.

"I had to try."

With that lovely conversation, our stalking expedition began again. Following someone is a lot less exciting than one would think.

As expected, traveling with the Marauders was not a particularly subtle affair. They continuously were stopped for short conversations by their fellow Gryffindors, most which involved them being congratulated on the quidditch match yesterday. I mostly just sunk into the background and hoped they would lose track of Roxie. After the fourth time the Marauders were approached to be sung praises and worshipped, Potter cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to me.

"You played well yesterday too." I broke eye contact. I didn't want anything to do with quidditch right now. It was a stupid game that caused stupid people to stupidly overreact. Besides, it didn't involve me anymore.

"Thanks Potter. You too, I guess." A somewhat weak reply, but it was the best I could muster up. I was surprised Potter had lowered himself from his podium of glory to compliment the enemy. It actually made him seem somewhat decent. I didn't want him to be a nice person. It was much easier if I didn't like him. Fred broke in while I was steadfastly refusing to look at Potter.

"What about me Nashira? Didn't I play well yesterday too?" Fred whinnied with (supposedly) mock childishness. I turned away from Potter, relived.

"Of course. You were the epitome of grace and athleticism." Fred looked offended at my sarcastic tone and tried to whack me with a sugar quill, holding it like a sword. I let out a small smile.

"You aren't actually that bad." Fred looked at me thoughtfully. Both Potter and I turned to him in surprise and (in Potter's case) horror. Fred quickly amended his statement. "I mean, I still don't like you." I raised my eyebrow and he rapidly continued. "Well, not that I don't like you, because I do, it's just that-"

"Stop. Really, just stop." I shook my head, holding back a smile. I had caused Fred Weasley to babble! It brought amusement to my withered and dry heart.

At this point, we had followed Roxie to a small park with a couple of benches. People were milling around, enjoying "warm" weather before predicated the temperature dive in the next week. Potter and Fred inched towards them, much to my chagrin.

"He's trying to hold her hand!" Fred spoke with an outraged roar. Potter looked about ready to storm off towards them and yank them apart.

"Chill." Impulsive idiots. We didn't have the best angle, but from what I could see, Roxie was gently prying her hand from Davies' and speaking with a kind smile on her face. Apparently, Davies did not agree with whatever she was saying, and reached for her hand again. I literally heard Fred growl. I could feel my entire morning's work ready to combust in a moment and I started to panic. With a sudden inspiration, I reached into my robes and found the bottle Mr. Weasley had given me. Hot headed indeed.

With a quick spurt, Fred's face was covered in tiny ice crystals. I smirked. Handy. I looked threateningly at James, who glared at me, looking dismayed that I had dared to use a WWW product on a Marauder.

"Stop it, both of you. You two need to cal-" Wait. No. Not just two. I turned in dismay to my left, where the absence of Frank Longbottom suddenly became all too apparent.

My head whipped towards Roxie, and I let out a groan of frustration. No, not Frank. Frank was supposed to be the sensible one.

He was only a couple feet away from them when I finally spotted him. Neither Roxie nor Davies noticed the scarily calm Marauder stalking up to them. By the time they turned towards him, looking confused, Frank's fist was already flying towards Davies' nose.

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Well. It's finally here. This chapter went through lots of plot changes before I finally finished. I kept on adding and taking away events, but I am mostly satisfied with the results. Thoughts? Did Frank's reaction seem way too out of character? (To some extent it is supposed to be, but I feel like it's a bit overdone. I couldn't think of any other way to do it though, and I needed a catalyst for future events). Any confusing parts?

On a side note, I seriously over estimate the amount of time it takes for each chapter. I had planned the events from the last three chapters to be squashed into one, which obviously didn't happen. Thanks again for reading, and leave a review if you have a moment! Special thanks to those lovely people who leave multiple reviews :)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Not mine! J.K. Rowling's!

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~Roxie's Point of View~

Lesson of the day: Don't mess with an angry Weasley woman. It's common sense. You don't poke sleeping bears or tease Hungarian Horntails. So don't mess with a Weasley when she stares at you with that particular murderous twinkle in her eyes.

However, out of anybody in the world to not follow the guidelines of common sense, I am not surprised it would be the Marauders. After Frank's "slip of hand" this morning, Matt tried to retaliate, only to be met with two wands from James and Fred pointed at his throat. They ominously told him that he had "better go now," to which he responded by cursing spectacularly, declaring that "even if Roxie were the bloody last woman on earth, he wouldn't date her while she had these three plaguing her." He stormed off, leaving the five of us to stare at each other awkwardly.

Frank broke the silence first, quietly starting to apologize, looking as if he had just awoken from a trance and didn't quite know what he had done. He trailed off when Roxie unfroze and glared at him, her voice soft with anger, telling him to "kindly shut up." She whirled around and began to walk away in the direction of the castle, back straight with rage. I glanced at the Marauders' stunned expressions, before running after her.

This led to my present situation. Roxie didn't acknowledge me when I fell in step. We silently walked back to the carriages. It wasn't until the carriage started with a bump that she began to speak.

"Sometimes I really can't believe them." Her voice sounded tight, and she quickly rubbed her eyes to wipe away an escaped tear.

"I'm sorry. I should have watched them closer." My apology seemed weak, but I didn't know what else to say.

"The point is you shouldn't have to! They aren't four anymore. They should know the difference between right and wrong and funny and going too far."

"They were just worried about you." I couldn't believe I was actually defending the Marauders.

"I know they were, and I appreciate the sentiment, but I need to live my own life. I I've told them this over and over again, but I can't seem to pound it into their heads. I'm not going to ask their permission to go on a date, or kiss a guy, or do anything semi-interesting. It's _my_ life, not theirs, and I'm sick of them interfering with every_ damn_ thing." Roxie appeared to be getting worked up now, releasing all of her pent up emotions. "And Frank? _Really_? I would have expected it from James or Fred, but I thought he actually respected me." I stayed quiet. "Did you know I've been in love with him for the last decade?" She laughed sardonically. "But he's just like them. He's a controlling and over protective git and I really think I may hate them right now. Merlin that was so embarrassing." She trailed off and hid her face in her hand, while a couple more tears dripped down. I broke in quietly.

"I know they can be idiots at times." She shot me a look, and I amended, "Most of the time. But I think they just don't know how to express their emotions in a logical, normal way." She snorted.

"That's for sure." The rest of the carriage ride passed in silence until Roxie broke in when we had almost reached Hogwarts.

"I think I want to continue with the pranking and the whole Dark Shadow thing." I surveyed her and gave an noncommittal grunt.

"Nashira? Did you hear me?" Roxie asked me tentatively. I sighed.

"Yeah, but let's not talk about that now. I don't want you to rush into it in a spite of fury and regret it later. If we keep on doing it, I want it to be because _you_ enjoy it, not to upstage your brother or get revenge on them."After a moment, she nodded slowly.

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~Roxie's Point of View~

Hiding from someone who has a detailed map of the castle and knows your exact whereabouts is near impossible. For the last half of a day, Fred, James, and Frank (or all three of them together) had been popping up in the most random places. I could only avoid them in these situations, which I accomplished by striking up very sudden, deep conversations with those unfortunate enough to be walking near me. After I started having an engaging chat about the welfare of giants with a terrified second year, I think they finally got the message that I wanted to be left alone.

I just really really needed to think.

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~Nashira Point of View~

It took the Marauders until dinner to realize that stalking Roxie _still _wasn't a very good strategy. It was a bit pitiful. I would have almost felt bad for their kicked puppy expressions if I hadn't of spent my entire morning warning them against being idiotic while they ignored my lovely advice.

I was on my way to the Great Hall for dinner, when I noticed Fred approaching me with a foreboding glint in his eye, waving to something past me in the hallway. I turned to find Frank and James walking determinedly behind me. I rolled my eyes and waited from them to meet me in the middle.

"Finally figured out how to split up and corner your victim?" It had been hilarious watching them with Roxie. They had an eerily good intuition when it came to knowing her whereabouts, but their cornering strategy was terrible. Half the time she just ducked into a secret passageway or another hallway and disappeared.

"Roxie still won't talk to us." Fred looked uncharacteristically solemn.

"Are you surprised?"

"She's gotten mad at us before, but never like this. She won't even let us apologize." I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Maybe you should listen to my advice next time."

"Please." Frank looked at my with bright blue, puppy dog eyes. "I –I messed up. I know it, and I just really want to fix. Can you please try and talk with her?" I sighed before nodding slightly in assent. I really wasn't into the sport of kicking puppies.

"I'll try, but no guarantees. She's pretty pissed." The three of them grinned at me victoriously.

"See? I knew you were cool." Fred slung his arm over my shoulder, while I sent him a mystified look. He sighed dramatically when he realized we had all frozen to stare at him. "For a Slytherin, that is. It's all relative." I ducked under the icky Gryffindor appendage (I can bash houses too!) and started back down the hallway.

Outside of the Great Hall, I felt a hand hold me back from entering the door. Fred and Frank passed on, not realizing we had stopped. I turned back towards Potter, ready to defend against some new, ridiculous accusation (maybe I was subconsciously influencing Roxie to the dark side by wearing a black sweatshirt? I've been accused of lesser things). We sized each other up for a moment before Potter broke in.

"Look. I know we haven't always gotten along well in the past." Understatement. He gave a small smile at my sarcastic expression. A smile. Not a smirk, not a superior-I-rule-the-world-lip-twitch, but an actual smile. Sure, only one side of his mouth tilted upwards (even when sort-of-smiling at his enemies, he was too lazy to go that extra mile and raise the other side), but still. It was a genuine, real smile. Color me impressed. However, as shocked as I was that his royal highness displayed an emotion other than disdain and contempt in my presence, his next phrase left me stunned and worried that maybe that Brain Freeze stuff Mr. Weasley gave me actually did slow his brain. Or kill off hoards of his brain cells. "But thanks."

I think I nearly tripped over my feet as my brain tried to comprehend his words. "Um. You're welcome." We stared at each other awkwardly for a good minute, not quite sure what else to say. Eventually, someone opened the door to the Great Hall and nearly plowed us over, which I took as a cue to end the heartfelt moment with my enemy. We both entered the room to the typical noise and chaos of dinner. Potter gave me a polite nod before leaving to the Gryffindor table. It was all very courteous and just plain weird.

With a quick survey of the room, I was able to tell that Roxie had not come down to dinner. She was probably grabbing something from the kitchens. I figured I would leave her alone for the rest of the night. I had a feeling she probably just wanted to ponder things out on her own.

I slept well for the first time in a week, and came down to breakfast feeling refreshed and in control. I happily dug into my waffle, not even letting the perfectly manicured barbies staring and giggling at my bed head disturb me. As far as I was concerned, they could gouge their eyes out if they had a problem with it. And really, it wasn't even that bad. Sure, a few hairs stuck up interestingly, and maybe it looked like a tangled mess of curls, but it had _volume_. What's so good about stick straight hair anyway?

I was still returning the bimbos' stares and pondering the evolution of hair when Lianne slid into the seat across from me.

"So. You're having a torrid love affair with Potter." I raised my eyebrow at her while she dropped a copy of Witch Weekly next to me plate.

"I cannot believe you actually subscribe to this."

"Just turn to page ten." I sighed and did a double take when I saw the article. There was a picture from Hogsmeade yesterday covering the top half of the page, depicting me, Potter, Frank, and Fred walking around the village , and the tiny part of me that was not freaking out wondered how they managed to conjure up something so quickly. The photographer had managed to capture us all at a time where we were all smiling and looking like we were enjoying ourselves, which couldn't have been easy since we were bickering the entire time. A huge headline read "Potter's New Flame," while a smaller caption questioned "Gold Digger or Star-crossed lover?"I nearly choked on my waffle.

"What? _How?"_

"To sum it up in simple terms, you and Potter are risking everything and defying your families in order to pursue the path of true love. Either that, or you're an attention seeking whore who only wants their fame and money. Oh. And if you've noticed Fred Weasley acting strangely, it's because he also is madly in love with you (or you have managed to completely deceive him too) and his relationship with his cousin is suffering dramatically as a result. You don't need to worry about Longbottom though, apparently he is just going to pine from the sidelines." I stared at her blankly.

"They're kidding right?" She shook her head in sympathy.

"I'm afraid not. They also got several quotes from other students, most Potter fangirls who claim you are a conniving bimbo. They even talk about his ex-girlfriend, you know? Daphne Smith, the model?" She hesitated. "They mentioned you father too, going off of the whole Romeo and Juliet angle." I just stared at her.

"I really, truly, _hate _tabloids." Paisley interrupted my vent about the press by calling from the opposite end of the table, gleefully gaining the attention of most of the hall.

"Hey Nashira! Is it true that you quit the quidditch team to be with Potter?"I glared at her.

"As if." Anybody in the Great Hall who didn't let his or her brains be rotted by Witch Weekly now preceded to ask their neighbors about my apparent love affair. I stabbed my waffle angrily. Paisley approached me.

"But you did quit, right?" I didn't reply, which appeared to answer her question. Immediately the Slytherins around me started to whisper, looking shocked, while my former teammates stared at me in bewilderment.

"Is it true?" I jumped when Scorpius Malfoy materialized at me elbow. "Did you really quit?" Apparently my lovely ex-captain had wanted to put me through one last torture section, and had neglected to tell my team. He probably wanted to cause a scene.

"I did quit, but not because I'm in love with Potter or any crap like that." Scorpius studied me, allowing for Paisley to cut in.

"What about Roxanne Weasley? Did you quit because you were getting to close to a Puff?"

"No! Of course not. I quit because the game isn't fun anymore and the team deserves someone who is dedicated and loves quidditch. Right now, I don't. It's too much work, too much pressure, and the thought of playing in another match literally makes me want to puke." The Slytherins around me still didn't look happy, but I ignored them. I wasn't going to change my mind, even if Kevin ever consented to taking me back. Scorpius grasped my shoulder slightly before departing, leaving me to bask in the joy of my ruined morning.

The whispers followed me for the rest of the morning, finally prompting me to take refuge in the library. The Slytherins were upset I had quit and apparently cared more about the Potters and Weasleys then my own house (no amount of protesting could convince them I quit because I wanted to, even if Kevin did force me into it.). The rest of the population was upset I was playing with the Marauders' hearts. I was upset that everyone in Hogwarts was turning into an idiot.

Sometime around two Roxie slid across from me at our table.

"What's up?"

"Apparently I'm in love with your cousin, playing with your brother, breaking Frank's heart, and splintering the Marauders' friendship with my wicked womanly wiles."

"Oh. So a lot then." I raised an eyebrow.

"You haven't been listening to the gossip, have you?" She shook her head, and I laughed. "I think you're the only person in Hogwarts who's in the dark." I shoved the copy of Witch Weekly that I had stolen from Lianne at her. She skimmed it expressionlessly.

"I'm sorry. I should have warned you about this before we became good friends. The press can sometimes get …carried away." I snorted.

"I know, trust me. I've actually gotten used to people whispering about me thanks to my father, but it still irritates me. I decided to become a recluse in the library in hopes of riding it out."

"They'll get over it soon, once Lily enters her goth stage or Lucy gets a boyfriend."

"Lucy's in her first year. She won't have a boyfriend for years."

"Oh, well, sucks to be you." Roxie smirked unsympathetically at me, which, weirdly enough, was exactly what I needed. "Now on to more pressing matters."

"My life and reputation isn't pressing enough?"

"Yes, yes, you're very important. By _my _reputation and life are at stake too."

"Ah yes. Done sulking now that your one true love punched your date in the jaw in a stunning and surprising fit of jealousy?" Roxie glared at me.

"Frank doesn't see me like that."

"I beg to differ." I retorted drily.

"I have decided that it is time." Roxie mocked giving a rousing and inspiring speech. "Time for me to break away from the chains that have fettered me for years. AKA, the Marauders. It is time for me to take control of my own life, to try things my own way. It is time for me to live!" I clapped teasingly, while she swatted at my head.

"So, most wise one, how do you intend to 'take control of your life' and 'break away from chains' etc. etc.?"

"Well, first off, I want to keep on with our little pranking charade." She raised her hand before I could interrupt. "I've thought about it, and it isn't just to one up the Marauders, although that shall certainly be fun. It has been one of my favorite memories from Hogwarts so far, and I just enjoy doing it. However, I don't want to keep on lying to my family. Eventually, I want to tell James and Fred that it is us." I sat back, surprised. "Nashira? Is that alright?" Roxie asked me tentatively.

"Yes, of course, you just surprised me. I actually think it's a great idea. It feels more genuine." She grinned at me.

"Also, there's something else." She fiddled with her sleeve nervously, while I eyed her with curiosity. "I want you to teach me to fly." I blinked.

"Really?"

"It's always been a huge insecurity of mine. I completely understand though if you can't, or if it interferes with you being on the quidditch team or something." She rushed the last part out.

"Roxie, you disappear from society for one day and you miss all the gossip. Luckily for you, that won't be a problem, as I am officially off the team." Roxie paused.

"WHAT? Why?" We both winced as her voice came out too loud in the library's silence.

"Oh, so now you want to hear about my life."

"Shut up and start talking."

"I'm fairly certain those are contradictory statements."

"What happened?"

"I just got tired of dealing with it. Even when I was playing, I feel like I wasn't having fun anymore. I love flying, but I don't love how everybody gets all worked up over matches. I've known for a while that it wasn't my thing, but I've been too scared to stop. But I would really really love to teach you to fly."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

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~Roxie's Point of View~

Putting my plot in motion to take over my own life diminished my anger slightly with the Marauders, but I still wasn't ready to drop the issue. As evil as it sounds, I got a bit of pleasure watching them squirm. They didn't try to approach me until breakfast Monday morning, at which point I gave Fred a glare, and he immediately changed directions so that he was heading towards Nashira. When he reached her, he ignored her eyeing him skeptically and pulled her into a giant hug.

"Nashira! My darling! This past day has been desolate without your shining presence in my life." Nashira slunk back to her seat, looking distinctly like a ruffled cat.

"Hello Fred." She repeated back drily. I studied them curiously. They seem to have done more than stalk me in Hogsmeade. I missed out on major bonding it seems (after all, creepily following a person together has to create some sort of deeper connection). "Is there something you wanted?"

"Isn't coming to see your lovely face enough?" He pulled one of her hands off of the table into his grasp, and appeared to notice the pile of mail cluttering the table for the first time. He raised an eyebrow.

"Fan mail, I presume?" Nashira nodded.

"All of the tweens and old ladies in love with you decided to write me letters chastising me for using and infecting you with my pure evilness."

"Oooooh. Fun! Did they send you any curses? What about a howler? I didn't hear a howler." Fred shook his head sadly for a moment, before perking up.

"Yes, there have been a couple curses, but nothing particularly harmful or creative. Your deep concern is noted though." My brother beamed back at her and stole a look at me.

"Hey Roxie." I ignored him, and Nashira cut back in.

"Shoo now. I'm sure the rest of your little posse is having separation anxiety. You've been gone for an entire two minutes." Nashira pushed him back in the direction of the Gryffindor table. He turned back once, to yell loudly across the room.

"Roxs! You're looking lovely today!" I slapped my palm to my face.

"My brother is an idiot. They will keep on doing little things like that until I finally give in and forgive them."

"Aww, it was cute."

"By the way, when did you start liking my brother?"

"It's not like per say. He's just not as horrible as I thought."

"If you say so. Please just don't tell me you're in love with James. I need someone sensible around me." She shoved me.

"Stop with your idle prattle and get started on brainstorming." We had been trying to come up with the perfect prank to announce the accepted prank war.

"Well, I was thinking, it might be fun to get a bit more direct with this prank since we are telling the Marauders we're in. We could do a prank that they once did, but improve it somehow." Nashira's eyes gleamed. "We would still prank everyone, as I think it's wrong to single people out, but it would be obvious to whom we would be directing it."

"I love it." We spent the next twenty minutes writing down every single one of their pranks and debating quietly how we could change them. Halfway to potions class, inspiration struck.

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~Nashira's Point of View~

I was late to transfiguration. I had forgotten my book in my dorm and waved Roxie ahead of me after potions. It wasn't worth us both being punished. So now I was power walking through empty hallways, praying that Newark was in a merciful mood. He wouldn't be, of course.

I passed a couple other stragglers heading off to class, but it wasn't until I noticed someone swaggering in front of me in a ridiculous attempt of looking cool that I paused. I quickly caught up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn around. The startled eyes of Michael McLaggen widened for a second, before he quickly fixed them into a bored expression.

"Oi, kid, we have to talk."

"Can't, sorry. I really need to be getting to class." He drawled out slowly, raising my irritation level.

"Cut the act. I want to know how what you know about Kaitlin Goyle and where you heard it from. "

"Dunno what you're talking about."

"Look, kid, I'm not here to pummel you for what you did at the match. It's my opinion that it was low and cowardly and that maybe you deserve to have some sense pounded into you, but that's not why I'm here. I just want to hear what you know about it."

"Why should I tell you? You aren't even on the team anymore." I inhaled with exasperation, trying to not let the annoying third year get to me.

"What's going on here?" Both McLaggen and I whipped around to find Potter staring at us. Of all the times….

"Nothing." We both spoke simultaneously. One of Potter's eyebrows jumped upwards.

"Really." Why did he have to be late today? This was the best opportunity I would get to grill Michael.

"McLaggen here was just telling me about something that he heard. " I looked pointedly at him, and he sighed in defeat.

"My dad's on the board. I hear stuff, ok?" McLaggen seemed less of a cocky arse now that Potter was here to witness it.

"Your father tells you classified information from student's files?" I asked him, horrified.

"Only about a couple people." He hesitated. "He's said some stuff about you too." Me? Suddenly it clicked.

"He's been telling you stuff about all the students he deems 'dangerous.' He doesn't think that deatheater children should be allowed here." My voice had become deadly low, and McLaggen nodded slowly.

"Well go on, what has he told you about me?" I waited, fully expecting to hear the worst.

"Not much, just that you got a misdemeanor from the school for using underage magic last summer." I snorted, relieved. Potter was watching the entire exchange with calculating eyes.

"I see." A loud bell tolled, and I swore. Newark was gonna kill me. "Well then. I would advise you to keep your enormous gob shut. If McGonagall hears that your father has been telling you this, I can assure you he won't be on the board for much longer." I started walking away, before having a second thought and turning back. "And if I hear anything else about Kaitlin, I will know who to blame, if you catch my meaning." Nothing like a good, implied threat to frighten the underclassman. Accordingly, he turned pale. I resumed my power walking onwards to Transfiguration.

Potter, with his stupid long legs, caught up to me easily.

"So, what was that about?"

"I told you, it was nothing."

"Who's Katlin?"

"Nobody that concerns you."

"What'd you do last summer?"

"What's with the barrage of questions? By the way, why were you even there? What happened to class?"

"Hypocritical, coming from you. I had to stop by the kitchens and it took longer than I thought, and then I saw my chaser being cornered by you. I thought you might be taking revenge for the game Friday."

"I'm not even on the team anymore." Potter nodded.

"What's with that anyway?"

"Haven't you heard? I'm madly in love with you."

"Ah, yes. I suspected as much." We had finally reached the Transfiguration classroom, at least five minutes late. I pulled the door open, hoping we could slide in unnoticed. Not so. The entire class swiveled to look at us, and Newark broke off mid-sentence.

"How cute. The two love-birds are coming to class together. I hope your time in the broom cupboard was good enough to make up for detention tonight." I blushed, not really surprised at his comment. I should have known better than to come in with Potter right after the tabloid.

I sunk into my seat next to Lianne, who was surveying me with interest.

"You would tell me if you were dating him, right?" I stared at her, aghast.

"I'm not dating Potter! You should know that better than anybody!"

"Well, that's what you say, but you have to admit he's got looks."

"I hadn't noticed." That's not strictly true. It's common knowledge that Potter is attractive, but that didn't mean I had to acknowledge it. It was much more fun pretending that he was an ugly baboon. I glanced over at Roxie, who was staring right at me and laughing at my situation. I glared jauntily at her, before pulling out my notes and pretending to be immersed in Newark's lecture.

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Ok, so somewhat of a transition chapter, but very important! There was a lot of dialogue in this chapter, and it was mostly from Nashira's point of view too. You shall be seeing more of Roxie in the next chapter though. Please tell me your thoughts in a review! And a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed or favorited/followed my story!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Yes, yes, you've all heard it a million times. It belongs to J.K. Rowling and not to me.

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For all of my nighttime wanderings, I had only been in detention a couple times. Surprisingly, polishing trophies and medals in the trophy room wasn't as boring as I remembered. At the tender age of eleven, the thought of spending an entire hour cleaning was horrifying, but it was mindless and gave me a break from thinking. Plus, it was interesting seeing the names of former students etched into silver for various accomplishments (something I could have cared less about a couple years ago). Quidditch had also cultivated me a lovely set of muscles that didn't leave my arms aching and after only one trophy (flashback to second year).

All in all, it was a decent detention. I didn't have to clean out bedpans or go traipsing through the forbidden forest. No gross cauldrons or writing the same thing over and over and over again. Even the annoying face of Potter next to me didn't level it up to "horrifying." There were five people serving detention tonight. Me, Potter, two third years here for setting off a WWW Whiz-Bang in class, and a fourth year Ravenclaw who glared at us silently. We had all separated off into little groups. I retreated so far off into my internal world, that I didn't hear it when Potter came up next to me.

"Alden." I jumped and loudly dropped the bottle of polish onto the ground, causing a huge clank to reverberate in the room and the three other people to turn in my direction. Potter raised an eyebrow. "Jumpy much?"

"Only with you. That face could strike fear into a dementor."

"Ouch. Straight through my heart. What's the situation with Roxie?"

"Well, I assume you know she's still avoiding you. I think she's less mad though." He sighed.

"She's never stayed this mad at us. It's been days!" I laughed.

"Maybe you should spend less time with the Marauders and more time with the opposite gender. Some girls can stay mad for _months_."

"I spend plenty of time with girls!" He spoke defensively. I rolled my eyes.

"I so do not want to go there with you. You can keep your escapades to yourself." To my disgust, he wiggled his eyebrows at me.

"Well, according to Witch Weekly, you're my newest conquest."

"It's sometimes sad how delusional the wizarding world can be." I shook my head pityingly, and Potter let out a grin. I moved on to the next item and became silent when I realized it was a Service to the School medal with the name 'HARRY JAMES POTTER' emblazoned on it. It was a strange thing to be looking at while his son stood a meter away from me. When Potter looked at me again, his eyes fell on the medal and he turned away blank faced. There was an awkward silence between us.

"So. Would you rather be the son of a hero and smothered under expectations, or the child of a criminal and believed to be inherently evil?" I really have no idea why I asked him. I was curious, of course, but we weren't even friends. It just kinda popped out.

Potter looked at me in complete surprise for a moment, probably not expecting me to ask such a personal question. Cozy-spilling-your-guts-out conversations weren't really in our relationship description. He tipped his head back for a second and appeared to be thinking, much to my surprise. I was really expecting more of a disgruntled-go-away response, or maybe for him to just joke it off.

"The second one." He nodded decisively. I glanced at him.

"Really. Why?" I tried to keep my voice neutral, but I wasn't surprised that Potter had chosen his hypothetical situation as the harder one.

"What do you want, Alden?" He looked at me distrustfully.

"Nothing. I was just curious. You don't have to answer if you don't want." We both went back to cleaning intently our prospective items.

"I guess it's because if you were the child of a villain, you could one day overcome your parents' past. If you're the child of a hero, people form huge expectations. They keep on expecting things until you either die or mess up and prove yourself unworthy to your parents' image. For the first option, you have nowhere to go but down, while the second always has the hope of redemption." Potter looked a bit embarrassed at his long answer, and I stared at his profile in complete surprise. Sure, I had asked, but I didn't expect a philosophical response, and especially not from _Potter_.

"Hmph." I paused consideringly. "You have a point, when you put it like that. Neither would be particularly easy." It was strange speaking about our situations in generalizations and hypothetical scenarios. "I suppose either way, you just have to screw what everyone else thinks and live your life."

"Guess so." We fell back into silence again, and this time it was welcomed. Having a heart-to-heart, deep, thoughtful conversation with your professed "enemy" is quite exhausting. Enlightening, but exhausting. However, I learned more about Potter in these two minutes then I did from all of our past interactions in the last six years. For starters, he may not be 100% an egotistical idiot. Maybe 85%. 60% at best. Guess there's more to a person then mussed up hair and a "dashing" physique. Who knew?

We worked in silence for the next ten minutes, until Potter ran out of polish and stole my bottle, which caused our bickering to flare up again.

"Just because you have the emotional capacity of a toddler-"

"-short. Barely come up to my chest-"

"-hair that looks like you jammed your finger into an electrical socket." He paused.

"Oi. Alden. You did not just insult my hair. It's like this naturally! I can't do anything about it." I rolled my eyes.

"You could stop mussing it up every three seconds."

"It's natural." He insisted. "Stop making fun of things I can't change."

"Like my height?" Yeah, that's what I thought. "I'm not even short. By normal people's standards, I'm tall actually."

"You look short to me." He replied stubbornly.

"That's because you're, like, eight feet tall."

"Face it Alden. You're short." Someone can't admit he's wrong…

"I'm five eight!" He looked unperturbed. I decided to drop the issue. "You know, you could stop calling me Alden. I have an actual first name." He faked surprise.

"You do? No. I don't believe it."

"I feel petty when I call you Potter all the time, like I'm constantly sizing you up and pretending like I utterly despise you."

"You don't utterly despise me?" He gasped in mock amazement again.

"Well, not utterly. If I'm friends with Roxie, I might as well be civil to you. The point is, you might as well just call me Nashira."

"What kind of name is Nashira, anyway?"

"Really? That's what you took out of that? And my dad chose it. He was trying to latch onto the age old tradition of the Black family. Nashira is the name of a star."

"Huh. Never heard of it."

"Er, it's in the Capricornus constellation."

"Oh. Cool." *Insert Awkward pause No. 3274* "I guess I could call you that." He hesitated. "You might as well call me James then."

"Er, right."

"Great."

"Lovely." The conversation lagged for a moment, as we both stared at each other, unsure of what to do now.

"So, Nashira Alden, what is an electrical socket?" Potter, James I mean, asked me conversationally. I stared at him blankly. My named sounded weird coming from him. He mistook my look and elaborated. "You said my hair looked as if I had stuck my finger in an electrical socket." He prompted.

"Well, do you know what electricity is?"

"Of course I do!" He scoffed at me.

"Sorry, sorry, some people don't." I made a placating motion with my hands. So sensitive. Sheesh. "It's the place where you plug in an electric device so the electricity can flow into the appliance." He nodded.

"I just didn't know what they were called. My grandpa is obsessed with those plugs and such."

"Yup. I guess a lot of muggles find technology fascinating. It's magic without magic."

"Where did you learn about muggle stuff like that anyway?"

"I went to a muggle primary school." Potter shot me a look.

"Really? Why?"

"Just because." Just because the wizard primary school was full of conceited little buttheads who didn't think a descendant of a death eater had any right to play with them or be there. Potte- er, James, shrugged. The caretaker appeared at the door a moment later, freeing us from detention. I nodded to Pott-James as I left, feeling a bit surreal. I had just had a decent, more or less friendlyish conversation with James. Will wonders never cease?

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~Roxie's Point of View~

"Lean forward. Slowly! Slowly. Just relax."

"Easy for you to say. You were practically born on a broom."

"Not a chance. My mother wouldn't even let me touch one until I was nine, and that was only because my brother took me for a ride." Nashira circled above me, while I awkwardly steered myself in jolted directions. This was our second flying lesson since I had asked her to teach me.

It was going alright. I didn't have a wondrous epiphany when I touched the broomstick handle, suddenly knowing my purpose in life was to fly. Not even close. However, today, I had finally managed to rise an entire ten feet off the ground. Sunday night mostly revolved around me flinging myself in the air and trying to figure out how to keep myself from toppling off.

Apparently, according to Nashira, my biggest issue is that I "lack the confidence to blindly throw myself out there and trust my instincts." I didn't particularly think this was a bad thing, as I was, still, trusting my entire life to a bundle of twigs that I could probably snap with my pinkie.

Nashira shivered in the cool breeze, hugging her coat tighter. I had gotten to the point where I was so cold that I didn't even notice the freezing weather. Even with the warmth spells we used didn't keep the air from penetrating our thick jackets. It was already early December, and our breath puffed out in silvery swirls over the quidditch pitch. It didn't help that it was one in the morning. I wanted to keep my lessons a secret for now, and we figured not many people would be stopping by the quidditch pitch in the middle of the night with a bitter wind howling in the distance.

"Roxie? Ready to go in yet?" I glanced over at Nashira, accidentally swerving my broom in her direction.

"What time is it?"

"A bit past one." I cast an apologetic look in her direction.

"Sorry, didn't mean to keep you out so late." She shrugged apathetically.

"I would still have been up. This just means that I'm actually doing something worthwhile with my time." I laughed.

"You and your nightly wanderings. Don't you get tired of not sleeping?"

"Nope, never. Just like I don't tire of coffee."

"You have a seriously bad caffeine addiction. You do know that's not healthy, right?"

"Yes, yes, so you've told me." I rolled my eyes and decided to try my hand at dismounting. My previous attempts had resulted with me sliding off of the both the back and the front of the broom. Neither way involved large amounts of grace. I turned the handle of my broom downwards hesitantly. The broom itself was an old one we borrowed from the school's broom shed every night. Nashira had offered to let me practice on hers, but it looked way too fancy and I was worried that I would accidentally steer it into a goal post or something. Instead I opted for the decades old one with the knarly, broken twigs. Nobody would notice if this one crashed a couple of times….

I dived slowly, trying not to freak out at the dropping sensation in my stomach, and dismantled awkwardly. Lesson number two, completed!

We snuck back into Hogwarts, our cheeks chilly and red. I suggested we go to the kitchens to thaw out of our current human popsicle state.

A couple house elves were still up and they brought us large, frothing mugs of hot chocolate, greeting us cheerfully even at one in the morning. While slowly defrosting, we reverted back to the debate we had been having for the last two days.

"Just ask him!"

"I can't! There is no way my father wouldn't be suspicious if I randomly sent him a letter saying, "Oh, hey dad, I was just wondering if you could send me some WWW products. No, no reason. Just because. Thanks! Oh, and could you not tell Fred? Love you, bye!"

"I told you, I think he already suspects."

"You are reading into Hogsmeade way too deeply."

"Roxie. He literally handed me a WWW catalog and told you to just ask if you needed anything, all the while hinting that he thought you were up to something. He even blatantly mentioned the Dark Shadow. How much more specific did you want him to be?"

"I dunno. I just don't want us to be mistaken and have our whole operation blown."

"It won't be." Nashira looked a mixture of exasperated and amused.

"Fine!" I threw my hands up."But it's on you if I get into trouble."

"I think it's more likely that he would throw you a party." She was probably right, actually.

"I'll write him when I get back to my dorm." Nashira grinned and reclined in her seat.

"He'll be estatic." We had been tweaking our prank idea for the last two days (in between late night quidditch practices and too much homework). Theoretically, we knew what we were doing, but now we just had to actually put it in motion, and to do that, we needed things from my dad's store. Our plot involved using a WWW product as a basis, and then expanding it.

At this point, I could feel my eyelids dropping. Another yawn tore itself from my mouth.

"Unlike someone, I can't operate on two hours of sleep. I'm going to bed now." Nashira rose with me. We thanked the house elves and left for our individual common rooms.

The owl came the next day. My parents' owl, along with another one I didn't recognize, flew into the Great Hall in the middle of lunch, hoisting a large, paper-wrapped package between them. They landed with a clunk in front of me, looking disgruntled at their lack of balance. I could feel Fred's questioning gaze digging into my back, but I didn't look around. Mission Avoid the Marauders had been in motion approximately five and a half days.

Nashira looked positively giddy next to me, and gestured at me to read the note attached. I gave each owl a snack from my plate, and they both flew off, presumably to the owlery.

_Roxie,_

_I knew you were up to something my darling daughter. No worries, I won't grill you about it now, but I would check for some truth serum in your pumpkin juice at Christmas if you don't spill before. Just a friendly warning. I must say though, I was very excited to hear from you. I wasn't sure exactly what you would need this for, but I have the instructions attached on how to make the thing you asked for, as well as some samples. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that this is confidential WWW information and can't be shared with anyone else but you (and I suspect your friend). _

_Now, onto business. If you happen to experiment and find changes that could be potentially retail-worthy, send me a sample and we'll talk. Might be a good way to get some extra cash (James and Fred have been hitting me up for years as WWW part-time experimenters). Hope all is well with you, and Good Luck._

_Love, _

_ Dad_

_P.S. Don't tell your mother._

I grinned with relief.

"Well?" Nashira motioned me to tell her the news.

"You were right."

"Of course I was."

"He sent us some samples, and also the recipe to make it. I'm glad I put in that we were experimenting with some products." I giggled, feeling the rush that came with setting a good prank.

I stored the package in my bag and glanced around to see if anybody had seen us and was suspicious. Instead I met the gaze of Matthew Davies. I blushed. Yesterday was my first Charms class since the "incident," and it was super awkward with Matt. I had apologized, and he nodded in acceptance, but there was a definite coolness between us now. He inclined his head at me, and I gave him a small smile. I'm so glad that entire ordeal with him is over.

Professor Wilson meandered over to us around the end of class, carrying a clip board and a quill.

"Are either of you two planning on staying at Hogwarts over winter break?" I shook my head no, and after a second, Nashira followed suit. Wilson nodded, and approached another group of students next to us.

"You going home too?"

"Yup." Nashira didn't look happy about it.

"You don't look particularly enthusiastic."

"It'll be nice to see my parents, but my dad and brother are having a huge fight right now. I doubt he'll even be invited over." I winced.

"I'm sorry. Well, we can always plan something over break together. Maybe we can meet up for a day or two?" Nashira smiled.

"Yeah. That would be fun."

"Oh! I can't believe I forgot! Uncle Harry invited you to come to Christmas dinner, if you want to." Nashira looked taken aback.

"Er, that was nice of him, but no thanks. I somehow think I would be detrimental to the peace of the evening. Plus, I probably should try and patch some of my family back together." I nodded.

"Well, offer stands. We can definitely do a couple day-trips! To Diagon Alley or something? And maybe you can come for the New Year's celebration."

"Just how many celebrations does your family have?"

"Just enough that we're sick of each other by the end, but not enough to cultivate severe murderous intentions."

"Strategically planned, then."

"You have no idea."

We spent the next five evenings locked in the Room of Requirement, experimenting, occasionally doing homework, and hanging out. It was lucky that my dad had given us the formula, as we quickly ran out of testing material and it gave Nashira a better idea of the chemical composition. As per usual, Nashira was in charge of the potion-y part, while I was researching the triggering mechanism again. Our prank was almost launch ready, and Nashira and I were planning on putting it in motion tonight. Our target was going to be all the sixth year classrooms.

Currently, Nashira and I were in the Room of Requirement, waiting for curfew and the patrols to finish. Nashira was laying on the floor and mumbling over a Transfiguration essay, cursing it under her breath. I was collapsed in an arm chair, skimming _Hogwarts: A History_. It was surprisingly interesting and distracted me from the butterflies swirling in my stomach.

Hiding out here had worked surprisingly well in my favor. It was the one place where I was safe from the Marauders. According to Nashira, they had grown increasingly desperate and were now bugging her incessantly. I had been ignoring them for about a week and a half. It was one of the most peaceful, relaxing, and downright quiet weeks in my life. It was also a bit lonely.

When it was time to leave, Nashira and I ducked out of our hideout and made our way to the first of the classrooms on the seventh floor. We silently unlocked each room, left a small, nondescript box in the back, and quickly left again. We made it all the way to fourth floor before a complication arouse.

Nashira was the one inside the classroom planting the box, while I stood guard outside. I barely heard the person until they were almost right on top of me. I was halfway through ducking behind a statue when they spotted me.

Crap. Weeks of detention flashed past my eyes. Could they revoke my Prefect badge just for being out after curfew once? I was going to be in so much trouble. I waited for the worst, not able to see with the light that had suddenly appeared in my face.

"Roxie!?" I paused in befuddlement.

"Fred?" We stared flabbergasted at each other for a good minute.

"What are you doing here?" Fred still looked like he was in complete shock. Personally, I was panicking internally. I was holding two of the small boxes in my hands, desperately praying that Fred wouldn't look there or ask what they were. Over Fred's shoulder, I saw Nashira peek her head out from behind the door. She immediately ducked back inside when she say Fred. I ran through a bunch of excuses inside of my brain.

"Er, I was… coming to find you, actually." The lie rolled stiltedly off of my tongue. "I was on my way to Gryffindor tower."

"At two in the morning? Why?" Fred asked in bafflement.

"I… had a sudden epiphany and I couldn't sleep. I realized I've been stupid to stay mad at you for so long and I had to talk with you. I know it's the middle of the night, but I wasn't really thinking. I just felt so_ bad_ and then I decided to find you." _Don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it_. I chanted a prayer to myself. It was a pretty bad excuse, riddled with holes. Plus, I was laying it on pretty thick. I just hoped Fred didn't look too closely. Suddenly, warm arms were wrapped around me and I felt my bones crunch in a tight hug.

"So you forgive us then?" Fred looked elated, erupting feelings of guilt inside of me.

"Um, yeah."

"Great! Wait tell I tell James and Frank. They've been going crazy! I promise we won't ever punch your date again for trying to hold your hand, just please _please_ don't ever get this mad at us again. It's been terrible!" I grinned and ruffled his hair, letting out a quiet sigh of relief.

"Don't be such a git and there's no reason for me to get mad. What were you doing here anyway?"

"Heading to the kitchens."

"At two in the morning?"

"Best time to go."

"Right then. Well, since I found you, I guess there's no reason for me to go to your common room." I laughed uncomfortably. "I guess I'll just go back to bed now."

"Ok then. I can't believe you actually stepped out of your common room after curfew. Turning into quite a rebel, aren't we?" Fred laughed like the idea was ridiculous, and I let out an exaggerated chuckle. If only he knew….

"Night Fred."

"Night Roxs." Fred continued walking down the hallway, while I tried to calm my heart. We had been _this_ close to getting caught. After a couple of minutes, Nashira poked her head back out again, and I signaled that it was clear. We quickly finished up the rest of the classrooms, taking extra care to look out for Fred or anybody else.

When the last classroom was done, we both grinned at each other.

"Just wait until second period…." With a maniacal giggle, we departed ways.

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~Nashira's Point of View~

Second period couldn't have come soon enough. My first class, DADA, was tortuous, even with Professor Lupin (who was one of the most interesting and involving teachers at Hogwarts). Lianne glanced at me worriedly several times, as I was anxiously tapping my quill against the desk the entire hour. I waved away her concerned questions and tried to calm myself. When class was finally dismissed, I raced out of the room as if I were escaping Azkaban itself, dragging a perplexed Lianne behind me.

Roxie and I shared a nervously-excited glance as we entered Transfiguration, before heading to our separate parts of the room.

It started off like a normal class. Newark lectured and tried to shove information into students' brains (unsuccessfully in my case). The goody-two-shoes (Roxie included) answered questions. The Marauders made joking comments when Newark's back was turned. I glowered at the board. Lianne made fun of me. The difference was, at exactly eleven-twenty six, I saw Roxie pick up her wand. It was done innocently enough, and anybody who wasn't specifically looking for it wouldn't have noticed. I saw her mouth almost invisibly mutter an incantation.

For an excruciating second, nothing happened. My gut clenched as my brain raced over everything that could have gone wrong. Somewhere between "too much distilled lilac and too little liquid grayroot, it happened.

The explosion echoed through the class with a loud _Bang_! White sparks shot out from the back of the classroom, showering over the heads of everyone. The whole class began talking at once, laughing at their reactions and wondering what had happened. Newark immediately called for silence over the swell of voices. He instantly turned to James and Fred, who were exchanging confused looks, obviously wondering if the other had set it off without telling.

"Potter, Weasley, care to explain why you felt the need to interrupt my class?" His voice dripped with annoyance. Newark was not known for tolerating misbehavior. I fought the urge to glance at Roxie, instead turning to Lianne, faking annoyed confusion. Everything was going as planned. Unbeknownst to everyone else in the class, the explosion had sent out more than sparks. Tiny flecks of glowing, blue goop now coated quite a few surfaces. Glowing, blue goop that started growing the moment it landed, just now becoming visible to the eye. I grinned internally. Newark swore.

"Not again, Potter!"

"It wasn't us, we swear!" It seemed fitting to Roxie and me that we imitated the prank that first drew us together ten weeks ago. Plus, it gave me a vast amount of pleasure as that prank was aimed towards me. The Marauders' faces turned ominous. They had figured it out before everyone else. However, the rest of the class wasn't that far behind. A Hufflepuff gasped.

"It's the Dark Shadow!" Everyone began to whisper immediately, daring even Newark's wrath. Across the entire school, the goop should be expanding exponentially. Each fleck was now the size of a small pile of galleons. People were hurriedly stuffing their notes into their bags, casting protective spells on them to keep them clean. The goop was now combining together to form piles the size of a small cat. As it grew, so did the smell. After reeking of rotten garbage for days, I had refused to go through that again. Our goop smelled overwhelmingly of lilacs and a hint of lemon. I was hoping the Marauders would take it as a slap to the face. That was certainly my intention.

"Potter! Do whatever spell you did before to get rid of this bloody stuff." Newark commanded James exasperatedly, jabbing his finger in his direction. James uncomfortably raised his wand and aimed it at the goop, muttering something doubtfully under his breath.

Naturally, the slime exploded a second time. I couldn't stop the grin from sliding onto my face as more glowing blue slime rained down on my peers.

And now the fun began.

Every puddle of slime, from the ones the size of small children to the ones that were sickle-sized, began to shake. A couple shrieks could be heard from some of the girls (or, well, I assume they were girls from how remarkably high the pitch was) while Newark raised his voice above everyone else, trying to regain control of the class. Little arms popped out of the sides of the piles, while small, pointed heads emerged from the top. With their little waving arms, they began their attack on the classroom.

Not that it was really an attack. Slime doesn't move very fast, so it was about as harmless as a bunch of snails inching towards us, but apparently blue slime monsters still earn some intimidation points. I heard quite a few more gasps as the little blue mounds oozed towards whatever surface they could find. They clung to books, bags, and even people. Fred had a particularly persistent heap wrapping itself around his arm.

Of course, they weren't really alive. Roxie and I had developed it so the goo would clump together with a certain structure; just like we had made it so magical interference would trigger them to "come to life." It was actually fairly basic magic, but made for a wonderful illusion.

Anarchy had completely taken over the class now. The lilac-perfumed monsters were tenaciously gripping onto anything they could find, while students tried to keep them away. However, no matter how many times they blasted them apart, the goo would just absorb together again. They were actually kinda cute, with their arms waving like little tentacles and their heads bobbing slowly.

Roxie made eye contact with me, and I gave her an imperceptible nod. With the chaos of the attacking slime monsters, nobody noticed her mutter the counterspell.

It all immediately disappeared.

Every single droplet of blue slime had been sucked out of the classroom by Roxie's spell, leaving it in almost the exact same condition, minus the students, who were still frozen in the position of battling imaginary enemies. Some people were pointing their wands at nothingness, others were standing on chairs in an attempt to avoid the blue monsters, and more students were holding their bags above their heads and brushing off invisible slime. The only indicator that there had been anything there to begin was the strong scent of lilac and lemons.

Newark looked positively murderous.

"Take your seats. Now." His voice was low and deadly. Everyone immediately dropped into their spot.

"Never, in my twenty years of teaching, have I ever had problems like this. And now, suddenly, your class comes along and thinks that an appropriate time to be doing your little magic tricks is in the middle of my class. I can assure you, that is not the case. None of you will be leaving until I find out who is responsible for this ludicrous interruption." Worry flashed through my stomach.

Newark stared each of us down. I saw Roxie twitch in her seat. With a sudden realization, I knew she was about to admit she had done it. I also knew that this was probably the worst way for her family to find out about it. I was halfway out of my chair, about to confess that it was all my fault, when someone appeared at the door, shifting everyone's attention and leaving me awkwardly hovering in my seat. I sat down again, and Lianne shot me a look.

Newark approached the person, who I realized was Headmistress McGonagall, and they had a conversation in low voices. Their faces were turned away from us, very conscientious that thirty students were blatantly trying to eavesdrop.

Eventually Newark turned back to us, looking slightly less annoyed.

"It would appear that this event was not unique to our classroom, which apparently means the culprit is not necessarily in here." He shot a suspicious look at James and Fred, obviously not convinced at their innocence. "This also negates my right to hold you here for eternity until someone fesses up." He commented, back to his dry self. "Class dismissed." Everyone immediately jumped out of their seats, discussing the events of the last ten minutes in vivid, loud detail.

I noticed the Marauders staring at each other sourly. I smirked to myself.

_If you want a war, a war you shall get. _

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Looklooklooklooklooklook! An update! My fastest yet! By a landslide (and it was even written four days ago, but I didn't put it up because I was trying to fix the weird ending)! I attribute it to all of those lovely people who reviewed and kindly told me to hurry up :)

Er. Yeah. Ok, so I had the prank idea in my head since forever. I never even considered something different. It sounded brilliant in my head, but much stranger in writing. So, thoughts on that? I didn't even plan to include detention in originally, but then it just kinda popped up, and happened to take up a very large portion of this chapter. Also, sorry if the facts behind Nashira's name are messed up. As far as I could tell, the star is also called Gamma Capricornus. If you were wondering :) Do you feel my chapters are getting more boring? I kinda feel like events are happening, but they aren't building up to anywhere. Please review! The next chapter is going to be about winter break and Christmas, which promises a lot of drama :)

ALSO. This is very random, but I have been wanting to explain this for ages. I know, according to J.K. Rowling, McGonagall is retired at this point. But I love her character so much, and I felt I couldn't create an interesting new one well enough, that I decided to extend her career for a couple more years. Ok. Enough of me blabbering.


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